Unnecessary Roughness
by RelativeWind
Summary: After a performance he'd like to forget, an over committed Finn struggles to keep everyone happy-including his demanding girlfriend.  But when he's blamed for an accident and faced with expulsion, he turns to Kurt, Rachel, and others to get through.
1. Dancing Queen

**A/N: The idea of writing a story from Finn's point of view started with a conversation with another Glee fan. Since then, things have evolved a bit.**

**The story focuses on two major relationships; Finn and Kurt and Finn and Rachel, and how they support one another. Kurt shows up first, but Finchel fans do not worry, Rachel plays a key role! I've also tried to explore Finn's faults and strengths-this is someone who has made inspired statements and acceptance and prayed to a sandwich. Needless to say, I've also tried to have a little fun. It is a comedy after all...**

**Finally (about time, huh?) thank you to those that have taken the time to read a review. The feedback is immensely valuable and gratifying. And a very special thanks to wood-u-like-2-no for his diligent beta reading. I'd like to think that the story continues to improve with each chapter, and that is due mainly to the support I receive from wood-u-like-2-no and others.**

So I want to get one thing out of the way first. This is not a story about my sex life. I guess it could of been, but that would have been pretty short and nobody would have wanted to read it anyway. I first planned to call it "The Failure of Finn's Birthday", but Rachel said it could be miscon-something. So I made it "Rough Play: Finn's Failure" to be more specific. It also kind of made more sense because by the timte I was done with everything it didn't really have a whole lot to do with my birthday. But apparently that change-up just made things worse so I replaced it with "Unnecessary Roughness: Finn's Failure". She said that didn't help much. So I just stuck with "Unnecessary Roughness" because they did try and say I did that and it kind of describes my life in general: unecessarily rough.

I've had some pretty epic birthdays—not all epic in a good way. Birthday's are supposed to be happy, and you look forward to them; at least until your old, like 30. Then it's more like a reminder you're getting closer to the grave, but at least you still get presents. Of course, last year's birthday wasn't the worst… thought it seemed that way at the time. The worst was freshman year.

The guys—the guys being Puck—decided that what we needed for the party was a stripper. Now, I want to really point out I WAS NOT involved in the planning of this; until she actually showed up I didn't even know about it and would not have been on board. For one thing, watching ladies strip with a bunch of other people around doesn't always work out so well for me. If you don't believe me, look at the police report. It's all right in there… about the planning, not the other thing.

It's kind of accepted that a high school party is nothing without booze. Without some beer it's not really official at the high school level, though I'm not really a big drinker. Actually, I went out to a bar the first time a few months ago. That is kind of how everything started. Kurt managed to hook up a few fake ID's for us, and said he wanted to go out and have some fun with his Bro. I thought it was strange how far we drove—we were half way to Toledo before he pulled off the highway. Kurt said it was so we wouldn't run into anyone we recognized, which I get but it seemed further than it needed to be.

Even though Kurt's been pretty cool since he started seeing other guys, this sounded very suspicious too me. Not that I'm a homophobic or anything, but he did try to get me to switch teams once and he knew I wasn't really big into the whole drinking scene and I knew it wasn't really his thing either. Of course, Kurt does have other stuff going on he wouldn't want to risk, plus I'm pretty sure he finds the idea of sleeping with his half-brother as creepy as I do.

I was still relieved when Blaine showed up. Not only did it ally any concerns that I had, it meant I had something to talk about other than Glee. It's ain't that I don't _like_ talking about singing and stuff, but I'm all about football too and so is Blaine.

Kurt introduced me to some sweet mixed drinks. Like fruit punch with a kick. Everyone looked at me funny when I ordered another one though, so I let Kurt order my third. No one batted an eye—I think something must be wrong with my ID.

As I was finishing up the third drink, I noticed some commotion in the front of the bar as they rearranged some tables and put up what looked like microphones from the 70s. I might have put it all together normally, but I was more than a little buzzed and my mind was running kinda slowish.

Kurt smiled at me. "This is going to be so much fun!"

"What?" I asked while trying to see what was going on up front.

"Kareoke, Finn," he said.

"Kareoke?"

"Yeas… Blaine and I have been working on this fabulous two part harmony of ABBA's Dancing Queen, but we need someone solid to take care of the backup singing."

"Who?"

"You, silly," Blaine said.

I started laughing really hard with my mouth still shut so it kind of sounded like a fart but not as gross. He couldn't be serious. For Kurt, I might have considered helping him practice a song like this in private, but in front of hundreds of people?

Kurt and Blaine were both staring at me. "Your serious?" I asked.

Kurt nodded.

"Dude, that's just not my type of stuff… its too, you know."

"Gay?" Kurt said, looking hurt.

That's when Blaine stepped in. "Finn: Someone who has the self confidence to wear a shower curtain to school and parade around the halls in his underwear shouldn't be worried about what type of music they sing."

My mouth dropped open and I looked at Kurt. "You told him that?"

"The day you put on that shower curtain and stood up for me was a big achievement for you. It was one of the first times I saw you accepting who you are even when it wasn't popular," Kurt said. "I thought something so selfless was worth sharing."

I wasn't with-it enough to have conversation this deep, but I wasn't ready to drop it either. "And what's so wonderful about me running around the school in my tighty whities," I said slightly too loud. The girls at the next table over giggled.

"Maybe he thought it was sexy," Blaine said with a smug grin. It was a joke, but I totally need a good comeback. Except I suck at comebacks even when I'm not drunk.

"Ew. What if I thought you're sexy?"

The two of them burst out laughing. I couldn't help but smile. Which only made things worse.

When they finally regained their composer, Blaine asked me point blank: "Will you do it?"

I laugh-farted again.

"You scared, Hudson?"

"My nads, are like, at least twice bigger than yours, girly boy" I answered. I really do regret the last bit. It was an invitation for Blaine to harass me-and he's pretty good at that when he wants to be.

"That wasn't my question, Frankenteen," Blaine said. "I want to know why you aren't man enough to do this."

"Dude, I've got like three feet in and fifty pounds on you," I said. I don't know if it was a threat or just something to get him to shut up.

"I think you're a bit high with your first number and low with your second." Fuck—had Kurt told him about my body issues too?

"I'm still bigger than you!"

"Not where it counts!" Man, he's good.

"Don't make me beat your ass."

"That sounds like fun," Kurt said to Blaine.

What the hell? Wasn't my bro supposed to be backing me up? What had I done to him recently?

"Seriously, Blaine, don't push me."

"Stop bluffing, Finn," Kurt said. "You're not going to lay a hand on either of us."

"Unfortunately," Blaine said with a smirk. Were they going to keep doing this until I said yes?

"Kurt, come on… you aren't really going to make me do this?" Oh but he was—in fact, he pretty much had to. It turned out this wasn't entirely Kurt's idea. Don't get me wrong, the little asshole was fully onboard. But he was still a pawn in a bigger game.

There are a few patterns in my life that I've kind of gotten used to. One is that everything microwaveable takes longer than it says on the box, though that's probably cause our microwave sucks. Another is everything humiliating normally starts with Noah Puckerman.

A few weeks earlier he suffered epic defeat at the Charity Hot Dog Eating contest. Every year we do this thing where the captain of each team and club downs wieners for the charity of our choice. Noah's Jew church needed money for this new giant candle holder, and I got to admit Puck's pretty legit when it comes to doing pro-Jewish stuff. Plus I'm pretty sure he broke the last one. So he went to Principal Figgins saying since I was captain of the football team, _he _could be the stand-in captain for New Directions and compete for his church (technically it should be the other co-captain, but Rachel said she "Won't participate in a depraved celebration of decadence and indulgence"… I thought celebrations were good things). Figgins bought it.

For all her not wanting to actually be in the contest, Rachel is all about making sure good charities get money. She insisted that I compete for PETA (I don't know why hollowed out bread needs a charity, but whatever).

Not that it mattered. Puck didn't have what it takes to play in the big leagues—something I may have reminded him of a few too many times. But come on—I'd just set the new record for the school eating 21 dogs for PETA. Noah did nine. NINE! Seriously, how was I supposed to let that drop?

He's no genus, but the Puckster has a few real talents. One is making up lame names for himself. Another is revenge—he knows how to get back at someone. But he knows that I know that. So for this one decided to use a patsy.

Getting Kurt excited about singing ABBA isn't too hard to do. In fact there was this one really embarrassing Christmas that I had to go around to like nine stores trying to find this one ABBA album he 'needed'. So when Puck told him about this, and promised to hook him up with the ID's, he was right onboard. To him it was perfect: screw around with his bro AND get to sing a super gay song. Of course, signing in some bar out in the boonies wasn't enough for Puck—that's where the flip cam came in. Whole night's on tape. Which actually came in handy cause I don't remember much…

Kurt and I stared at each other for about thirty seconds. I could tell this wasn't going well for me. Time for new strategery. I know that reverse psychosis stuff can be really effective, but I wasn't really sure how to do it. But I had to try something.

"So, Dancing Queen's like a big deal for gay dudes?"

"It's a cultural icon in the gay/lesbian/transgender community," Kurt said.

"So you want it to be good?"

"Finn, have you _ever _known me to undertake a performance without fully committing myself to ensuring it is of the highest quality?" Kurt had the same look my mom gave me when I was a little kid and ate something I wasn't supposed to.

"Was that a yes?"

"Yes."

"And with a name like Dancing Queen, doesn't it need some… uh, Dancing?"

"Some quality choreography would add to the performance," Blaine chimed in. I should have known this was going south faster than Santana.

"And, like, you guys know I'm not really that great of a dancer. You can do way better. Maybe you should see if Mike can help?"

"I think we can still make this work," Kurt said. "After all, Finn, you're best when you're loose." Was that a booze joke? It wasn't MY fault I was drunk.

"Sydney Olympics 2000," Blaine said. "Kylie Minogue performed Dancing Queen during the opening ceremonies. The choreography they used was amazing."

"Who?"

"Yes… spectacular. But I don't know if Finn can keep up with that kind of dancing," Kurt said. I had no idea what he was talking about but he was probably right.

"How about something more in line with the 2008 blockbuster Mamma Mia's rendition?" Blaine suggested.

"I'm not sure how well that would translate to the karaoke stage, especially with such a small group," Kurt said.

"What?"

"We'll need to split the difference," Kurt said, "Something formal and rigid enough to be impressive on a small stage…"

"…But simple and loose enough that Finn can pull it off."

"I'm right here." It's like going to dinner with Santana and Brittany. Can they just acknowledge me once?

"Perfect. What about costumes? Like Finn said we need to do this right." Fuck me.

"We've got about an hour and a half to get ready," Blaine added. "Choreography will be tough enough, but how are we going to get costumes?"

"I always have several outfits in the car. I think some cunning mixing and matching will provide suitable apparel."

"That's great for us," Blaine said, "but what about Goliath?"

"Uh don't worry about me… you are talking about me, right?" I said.

Kurt ignored me. "Real fashion talent is turning nothing into something spectacular. We'll need to work smart. I always carry a sewing kit, and I know Finn's sizes."

"You do?" I asked

"I do your laundry."

"Oh, right… wait, what?" Why would he checking out the _sizes_? He must have been planning to buy me something, that never works out good. I really can't rock the looks he comes up with.

"Working smart might be easier said than done," Blaine said. I couldn't think of a good comeback so I let that one slide.

"Blaine, you go talk to the manager. See if they have spare linens, a lost and found, maybe even some curtains. Anything we can use for raw material. I'll check the SUV and get the two of us straightened out and see what I have that might be useful for Finn." Kurt grabbed a basket of bread off a nearby table and handed them to me. "Eat this and drink about half a pitcher of water. Then meet us in the bathroom in five."

"It doesn't go through me _that_ fast."

"Just be there."

I wasn't really sure why I was eating a loaf of bread; later Puck told me carbo-loading helps you to become more undrunk. And it worked to: by the time I got to the bathroom my head was starting to clear just enough to get me into more trouble. As you might expect the men's room at a bar doesn't smell too wonderful, and to make it worse it was hot and stuffy. I'm not the kind of guy to get hung up over hygiene and stuff, but I was kind of surprised Kurt put up with it...

"We should go with something loose and flowing, it will emphasize the motion," Blaine suggested.

"Just what I was thinking. Almost an Arabian theme," Kurt said.

"You know, you get one of those table cloths as a cape and dress it up right, you don't need much else."

"Nothing else," Kurt said with a cheerful smile that scares the crap out of me every time I see it. "Not totally nude, of course, but some skin would really add to the look."

"I'm not really down for that," I said.

"You really shouldn't worry about it," Kurt told me. "I know it's not easy for you to show off your body, but you really do have a great physique. You should be proud of it."

"Except for that little gut and love handles. I can tell you how you kicked Puck's ass in that eating contest." Sometimes I don't like Blaine.

"You're not helping," Kurt grumbled. There, finally, the brotherly love. "Though it really wouldn't hurt to do some sort of a cummerbund." And it's gone.

I couldn't take any more of this. "What the hell man? First you tell me you want me to go up there in a cape and undies and then you start making fun of me? What's your damage?"

"Calm down Finn! It was just a joke." Whatever Blaine. To be fair, I'm pretty sure he _was_ joking-I'm actually in pretty good shape and he's not the kind of guy who thinks someone's pathetic just cause they don't have washboard abs anyway-but it kind of strikes a nerve still. Plus I was still too out of it to really get beyond my first thought, which was Blaine sucks.

"You know, you have absolutely nothing to be ashamed of. Don't you remember how I spent the first two years of high school crushing on you? Even while you were throwing me in a dumpster. Trust me, I know better than you what looks hot." And the brotherly love is back. Just way creepy this time.

"I'm just not down for that right now," I said more calmly. I locked eyes with Kurt, and I think he could see how upset I was. Not angry anymore. Just upset.

"We won't do the costume that way if you don't want," Kurt said. I know this is hard for you, but it is great you are doing this. As your brother, I see how difficult it is for you to reach outside of your comfort zone sometimes. This is just one more step on the path to being an independent thinking leader." What a load of crap. To be fair though, Kurt was onboard with humiliating me, but he wasn't trying to put me in some self-hating destructive spiral or something. Puck might have kept pushing, but Kurt wanted to embarrass me, not hurt me. Not that embarrassment doesn't hurt, but there is a difference between some heavy ribbing and tearing someone down.

For the next twenty minutes, Blaine showed me things to do with my body that I never knew were possible. While Kurt was working on costumes he ran me through a dance routine that hurt like hell. It did not go well.

"Two steps left, then one right, then spin."

"That's what I just did!"

"No you did two half steps left, then a full step right, then a spin."

"Which way?"

"You really need to play to his strengths more to make this work," Kurt said from the stall where he was sewing. "Less moving the feet, more upper body."

"Yeah, I bet he's really good with his wrists and hands," Blaine said.

"Because I play football?"

"I was thinking more because your girlfriend doesn't put out, but lets go with football," Blaine said. Kurt peaked his head out and smiled at me the way he does when he knows I'm confused. It only took me a few seconds to get it.

"Oh come on man. That's low."

"I'm gay. I can tell." Blaine smiled.

"You see… if I said something like that, you'd say I was being homoerotic."

"You mean homophobic," Kurt said.

"Whatever." It's amazing, no matter what's going on, everyone just loves to pile it on when I switch up my words.

"Finn being homoerotic, now that would be interesting..."

"Can we just get back to dancing?" Practicing with Blaine sucked, but it was better than talking with him.

"I don't know if I'd really call it dancing. Maybe more like spasms to a beat." Blaine rolled his eyes. "But I got to work with what I got."

Ten minutes later, Kurt was almost finished with the costume, but he needed to put it on me so he could size it or whatever. My legs were sore so I was kind of excited to take a break… until I saw what I looked like in the mirror. He'd taken a tablecloth and some netting stuff and a bunch of shiny things and really went to town. I mean, it was pretty cool that he put all that work into it and it actually didn't look like a tablecloth anymore, but I had kinda been hoping for something at least as manly as my Lady Gaga outfit. At least he took the pink and red one, mine was blue and green. I'm normally pretty cool with those colors but on this it kind of made me look like some sort of cartoon dinosaur covered in shiny seaweed.

"So what do you think?" Kurt asked.

"It's, uh… sort of shiny. But in a good way."

Kurt looked a little disappointed, but what did he expect me to say? If I lie and say I love it then he's going to tell me to wear it to school or something. Wouldn't be the first time _that's_ happened.

We went back out to the bar, and I felt absolutely ridiculous. I mean I'm dripping with sweat coming out of bathroom with two other guys wearing a bedazzled table cloth that still shows way more skin then I'm really comfortable with. I wasn't feeling very drunk anymore which kind of sucked because I think everything would have been a lot easier at that point if I didn't really know what was going on.

I wanted to sit in the back but Kurt kept saying he wanted a better view so we ended up in front. I guess I could have stayed in the back by myself, but I felt kind of ridiculous in that costume and figured I was best hanging with people dressed like me. It made it seem a little less weird.

Blaine had signed us in as the "Prima Donnas" which didn't really make sense to me. But what did that night. So when the MC called the "Prima Donnas", the three of us climbed up on stage, and I braced myself.

So when most of the room is wasted, what you wear really doesn't matter as much. In fact, I had more clothes on then some people in the room. There was some laughing and some cheering, but I wasn't really paying attention to that. I knew what I had been getting into; I knew how bad it would be. But for some reason it really didn't hit me until I was up there in front of two hundred drunk people. I felt chills down my back so I moved further away from the AC vent. I could tell Blaine didn't like that I was out of position, but what the hell.

"The words will be on that screen right over there," Kurt said in a loud whisper. "Just relax and follow our lead. This is going to be fun."

The music started up, and Kurt and Blaine sang a two part harmony of the introduction.

_You can dance, you can jive  
Having the time of your life  
Ooh see that girl, watch that scene  
Dig in the dancing queen_

They nailed it. I mean, I was totally not into the song, but they were good. It made me feel a bit better. Blaine and Kurt alternated on the next few lines.

_Friday night and the lights are low  
Looking out for a place to go  
Where they play the right music, getting in the swing  
You come in to look for a king_

On look for a king, they both pointed to me which was something we totally hadn't rehearsed. I guess I should have expected that. I could feel my face turning red as they started the next verse in two part harmony.

_Anybody could be that guy  
Night is young and the music's high  
With a bit of rock music, everything is fine  
You're in the mood for a dance  
And when you get the chance_

They were actually doing really well. My confidence was back, and it was just in time as we went into a three part harmony.

_You are the dancing queen  
Young and sweet, only seventeen  
Dancing queen, feel the beat  
From the tambourine, oh yeah_

_You can dance, you can jive  
Having the time of your life  
Ooh see that girl, watch that scene  
Dig in the dancing queen_

Blaine and Kurt both nodded at me. I took me a second to realize what they wanted so I was a little off to start, but Blaine and I alternated the next few lines.

_You're a teaser, you turn 'em on  
Leave 'em burning and then you're gone  
Looking out for another, anyone will do  
You're in the mood for a dance  
And when you get the chance_

This was actually sort of fun. I was starting to get what they meant by 'It's so crazy it just might work'. Well, I already got that, but now I was living it to a level I never had before. The song, the costume, the dancing, none of it was anything I wanted to do… but I kind of liked doing it.

_You are the dancing queen  
Young and sweet, only seventeen  
Dancing queen, feel the beat  
From the tambourine, oh yeah_

_You can dance, you can jive  
Having the time of your life  
Ooh see that girl, watch that scene  
Dig in the dancing queen  
Dig in the dancing queen_

That was it. We we're done and no one had thrown anything at us. In fact, there was a lot of applause and cheering. It was a lot rowdier than the crowds at our normal performances (I'm guessing because it was a bar and people had been drinking), and as we walked back to the table we got a bunch of back slaps and high fives from people I'd never seen before.

"You've got that stupid half grin on your face," Blaine said. When he said that, I tried to look serious. "You actually _liked_ that."

The smile came back. "I got to admit it wasn't that bad. I mean, I'm really glad no one else is ever going to see that because that would be complete humiliation nation back at school, but this was pretty cool." Of course, assuming no one would see it was really kind of native...

"I know you Finn," Kurt said, "Better than you know you."

"That was fantastic," someone said from behind me. The voice sounded sort of familiar but I couldn't really place it. Kurt was looking right at her, and his face had gone so white I thought he'd stopped breathing. Actually, he probably did for a few seconds.

I turned around. It was a real oh shit moment. You know that feeling when you're by yourself in your room kind of polishing your torpedo and your Mom walks in? (I mean that figuratively, I don't have a real torpedo. I don't know if anyone in Lima does, probably not… theres not really enough water.) The cold, throw-uppy feeling that gives you goosebumps.

"Oh... fuck..." I said softly.

**Thanks for reading! Reviews are encouraged and sincerely appreciated! **

**For those of you that have been reading for a while-I've wanted to make a few tweaks to this chapter for a while and finally bit the bullet. Hopefully it was worthwhile!**

_"Dancing Queen", performed by ABBA, written by, Björn Ulvaeus, Benny Andersson, Stig Anderson, copyright 1976._


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Thanks to everyone to has read, reviewed, and favorited this story. I really appreciate any and all feedback. I'd especially like to thank wood-u-like-2-no for his excellent beta work. Writing the closing act of the 'bar scene' took a lot more thought than I anticipated, and his comments dramatically improved the finished product! And trust me… the best is yet to come!

* * *

"I thought you'd be happy to see me," Ms. Holiday said. She seemed even more cheerful than usual. "I'm serious though, you guys were really good." She grabbed a loose piece of fabric hanging off me and looked at it. "Did you guys make these yourselves?"

"Yeah," Kurt said. "I was going for something that combined the modernistic styling of Pierre Mondure with the flowing motion you see in the work of costume designers like Dante Krammes and Phillip Mule."

Ms. Holiday and I exchanged glances. "I'm sure all that means something to somebody, but it looks great Kurt."

"He put it all together in about an hour," Blaine said. "Finn decided we needed costumes, and Kurt picked up the ball and ran with it."

"Finn... really?" She looked at me with her head cocked to one side. "The costumes were _your_ idea? I was just surprised to see you up there singing ABBA. I've seen you guys do some weird stuff, but Finn doing Dancing Queen... I did not see that one coming."

"They got me drunk and talked me into it." Did I just say that? Crap. It was bad enough to get caught by a teacher in a bar; I'd just told her we'd been drinking. A lot. Kurt and Blaine both looked peeved. "Um, actually I mean… we're in trouble, aren't we?"

"Calm down," Ms. Holiday said. She slapped me on the back. "You guys have a lot of stress, sometimes you need to unwind a bit. Am I right?"

"Yeah... totally," I said, still not completely convinced this wasn't a trap. On one hand Ms. Holiday is really cool and laid back, on the other she _is_ a teacher. I really didn't want to go to jail. Puck told me about how rough life was in juvie... I seriously did not want to go down that road.

"High school _can_ be very tough, especially for those of us who choose alternative lifestyles," Kurt said.

"It's not like you guys have the tough life stuff cornered," I said.

"First of all, I resent the fact that after all we've been through you still refer to people of my persuasion as 'you guys', and secondly you know better than anyone how much I've had to deal with in high school."

"Sorry dude… I didn't mean it that way." Speaking of all we've been through he knows damn well that what I say and what I mean don't always go together. Sometimes I get words to line up better than others, but he knows its hit and miss and I don't mean anything by it. You'd think he'd cut me some slack.

"He's right. I see it every day. It doesn't matter who you are. The quarterback and the captain of chess club both have their problems." Ms. Holiday for the win!

"Exactly Ms. H! People don't get that. They think it's easy street." Someone once told me 'when you're on top, there is nowhere to go but down.' In addition to being seriously depressing, it really brings how tetanus your position is. There's a fine line between celebrity and slushie.

"Now if you want to know hard—try being a teacher. Every time I walk into a new classroom its thirty new problems."

"Yeah… if I had to teach me I'd probably be pretty stressed," I said. It wasn't a joke but she thought it was funny. Despite what Kurt will tell you, I'm not some idiot who's math skills are limited by how many fingers and toes I have (which is 20 by the way, though I've always sort of wondered what it would be like to have more), but I'm definitely not at the top of the class. I hang in there ok, but there have been a few teachers who really helped me out. I needed a lot of extra help in Algebra, and the after school tutoring wasn't fun for anybody.

"I come to places like this to unwind. I love singing, I love listening to people sing. It's relaxing." She smiled and pointed to a large draft beer. "And this, this doesn't hurt either." I was wondering how many of those she'd had... that would explain her being so mellow.

"Yeah, Ms. Holiday, I didn't really expect to see you _here_," Kurt said. "There have got to be karaoke bars closer to Lima," Kurt said.

"Why are _you _here?" Ms. Holiday said. Her words ran together a bit, but her comebacks were quick.

"Kurt was worried we'd run into someone we knew," I said. "I mean I know we're not really supposed to be at a bar and drinking and all that and I don't want to go to jail because I know that—"

"Relax Finn. I already told you I'm not going to bust you guys. You're high school seniors, you can handle this stuff. Just promise me—"

"You guys were OFF THE HOOK!" this short guy with long hair said to us. He slapped me and Kurt on our backs. "That performance was rockin'! Where did you guys come up with that?"

Kurt shrugged. "I've always wanted to do it in concert, but some of the folks I perform with are a bit closed minded at times."

"Hey! I never said no to Dancing Queen." I'm really tired of Kurt putting things in my mouth.

"I never said I asked _you_. But would you really have said yes?"

"Boys, boys! You need to enjoy the fruits of your labor!" long-haired guy broke in. "Let me get you all a nice drink to wind down."

"I'm good," Kurt said.

"Me too," Blaine said.

I was pretty thirsty, and I don't really think the 'don't take stuff from strangers' stuff counts when you're a high school senior. "Can I get a Coke?"

"Come on, man! Get a real drink." Last I checked a Coke was a real drink, but he handed me a beverage menu and told me to pick one. I wasn't going to order anything with alcohol in front of Ms. Holiday, even if she seemed cool with it. I knew some of the drinks had booze in them, so I tried to find something that sounded good.

"How about this one?" I said pointing to what I _thought_ was iced tea.

"Slammin' choice my man!" long haired dude said. I've seen people who are all about iced tea, but this guy was more into it than anyone I'd ever met.

While he was off at the bar ordering, Blaine and Kurt looked at each other. "Gay?"

"Gay."

"How do you know that?" Ms. Holiday asked.

"Aside from the fact he's staring at Finn like he's a piece of meat?" Kurt asked.

"He was not," I said.

"Why do you think he wanted to buy you a drink?" Blaine asked.

"He liked the song?"

Kurt shook his head. "You are so naïve Finn."

Long haired dude was back, and handed me a really big drink. "I'm Kyle," he said as he handed it to me.

"Finn." Kyle smiled and waited for me to drink up. It tasted really strange for iced tea, but it was really good. Even better than those drinks Kurt came up with earlier. I probably had it gone in a minute or two. Meanwhile Kyle was telling me something boring about growing up in Kentucky.

"It looks like you enjoyed that," Kyle said. "I got you a double-sized, and I had them make it up Extra Long. You seem like the kind of guy who'd appreciate size and potency."

"It was really good," I said with a smile. He smiled back.

"You have a really beautiful smile," Kyle said. "I love a manly man with a winning smile." People always seem to like my smile, which is cool. Except for Santana, who calls it a 'half moon shit-eating smirk' and jokes about being paralyzed on one side of my face which is totally unfair (she also jokes about other stuff being paralyzed which is _really_ unfair). It's not like I always favor one side or the other, and I _can_ smile normal.

Of course, I'm not really used to guys brining up my smile. I was starting to think that Kurt and Blaine were on to something. I really needed to talk with Kurt and Blaine again. Fortunately Kyle asked me if I wanted another tea.

"Yeah man. Sweet."

"I'll be right back." Perfect timing. I could talk freely with my buds for a minute or two, though after tea number two we might need to make a pit stop on the way home. That's what I was thinking, but it was actually bit more serious. It turns out Long Island iced tea isn't actually a type of iced tea, which makes less than zero sense and seriously messed me up that night. And the following morning. As I said, I'm not a big drinker.

"So are you going to pretend you're gay until he stops bringing you free drinks?" Blaine asked.

"Been there, done that," Ms. H. said. I wasn't really sure why she'd pretend to be gay to get a guy to bring her free drinks, but that wasn't important at the moment.

"No… dude… I wouldn't- I just wanted to talk to you guys alone. It was the easiest way to get a few minutes. I need a way out."

"So you got yourself into an awkward situation and now you expect me to just get you out of it?" Kurt asked.

"Dude… You're my bro. This is the kind of stuff brothers do."

He starred at me.

I got the message. "Ok, I'll owe you one."

Kurt smiled. "Alright. The Toledo Art Society is having a gala dinner fundraiser in March. Tickets are $2,000 a piece, but they are giving 50 away to students next weekend. You come up and camp out with me at the Museum Friday night so we can get tickets and we'll call this even."

"Come on man… isn't that a little much? And I have a game Saturday evening." And camping with Kurt is like going rock climbing with Artie: it's not his fault, but it just isn't a good fit.

"Don't worry your pretty little head. I'll have you home in time for the game. Or you can have a wonderful date with Kyle next weekend instead."

"Fine. I'll camp with you. Just help me."

"I've got it already taken care of." I wanted to ask him how he was going to fix this, but Kyle was back before we could discuss it.

"Here you go champ," Kyle said, putting another giant glass of what I thought was iced tea in front of me.

"Kyle, I'm not sure I'm really comfortable with the way you're talking to my boyfriend," Kurt said.

"Boyfriend?" I asked. Did he mean Blaine? The guy hadn't said a word to Blaine since he asked him if he wanted a drink. Then it clicked… this was Kurt's plan. "Yeah, um, we're boyfriends."

The smile disappeared from Kyle's face. "I'm so sorry, I didn't know. Why didn't you say anything?"

"You'll need to forgive Finn," Kurt said, "he's a little on the slow side sometimes."

"I'm really sorry about that dudes. I had no idea. I'll be… well, I got to run. Sweet singing."

Kyle smiled at me one more time, and he was gone.

"Quick thinking Kurt," Blaine said. "I'm impressed."

"The old random bar guy is my boyfriend trick. I've done that before too." Ms. Holiday must have spent a lot of time in bars.

"Thanks Kurt."

"Just remember how much you appreciated this next weekend when you're trying to engender some wild excuse as to why you can't go to Toledo with me."

"I'm good for it." I turned my attention back to the second really awesome iced tea I'd gotten for free. Kurt was saying something else about the dumb art show, but I really didn't care. I had promised to go with him; I never promised to be interested or pretend to be interested.

"Would you like another, hon?" a really hot waitress asked. She was stacked. I couldn't take my eyes off the tatas. Someone once told me there are three types of sweater puppies: real, fake that look real, and water melons. You don't say no to a girl with water melons.

"I could… yeah, I'll have another one." She smiled and walked away.

"Ogle much?" Kurt asked.

I started to say something defensive, but knew it was useless. That's one of downsides of hanging out with gay dudes; if Sam or Puck were there, I wouldn't be get grilled for checking out a hot babe. "Just, uh, please don't tell Rachel."

A few seconds later MegaJugs was back with my drink.

"Do you want to open a new tab, hon?"

I looked at her, then at Kurt "Um… I don't know… do I?"

Ms. Holiday jumped in. "I'll open a tab for this. Put it under Holly. Holly H."

"Sure thing." Senora SuperBust wrote that down and walked off.

"Thanks Ms. H. You didn't need to do that."

"You _are_ paying me back. I just want to make sure you don't have any problems."

"What do you mean?"

"Do know how a tab works?"

"Uh, not really."

"Trust me, by the time you figured it out she'd have a pretty good idea you weren't supposed to be here."

"You're really smart."

"She looks good by comparison, that's for sure," Blaine chimed in.

Ms. H. Changed the subject before I could think of a good comeback. "So guys… I haven't had a chance to talk with Will in a few weeks. How's he doing?"

"Oh, Mr. Schue?" What was new with Mr. Schue? I don't know why, but I just said the first thing that came to mind. "Well he, uh, changed the fabric softener he's using."

"The fabric softener?" Ms. Holiday said.

"Yeah… he's got something that comes in blue bottles now. He used to use orange ones."

"How do you know this? More importantly, why do you know this?" Kurt looked at me with some confusion.

"He does shopping before school some days, so if I meet him in the parking lot and his trunks open sometimes I see what he's got." As for the why part I had no idea. Sometimes I remember strange things.

"That's some impressive police work, detective," Ms. Holiday said. "I'm actually impressed Finn. I didn't know you were so detailed oriented."

"Trust me, he's not," Kurt said in a mean way. "Normally he can't remember where he put his shoes."

"People keep moving them!"

"What people? Do you really think I have nothing better to do around the house than randomly move your squalid footwear from one place to another?" I didn't know what squalid meant but it sounded nasty. Something about a squid maybe?

"You did that time you took them out of the fridge." I was a little irked at this point. Kurt was yelling at me even though _he_ was the one moving _my_ stuff. It feels really good to slip on some sneaks that have been cold-soaking all night before heading out on a 95 degree day. They do heat up pretty quick when you go outside but you get a few good minutes.

"Are you even listening to what you are saying?" Kurt was sounding a little stressed now which was strange. I was feeling really relaxed.

"Sounds like you guys need a separate shoe fridge," Ms. Holiday suggested.

It wasn't a bad idea. "I've thought about that. Do you think if someone made one people would buy it?"

"She was being sarcastic dumbass." Kurt took a deep breath and turned to Ms. Holiday. "Finn's care for footwear is seriously lacking. He never cleans them, never shines them, and even has grill marks on one pair. And that's not even considering how limited and homogeneous his selection is."

"Homo-wha…" I looked around in confusion. "You think my shoes are gay?" He normally didn't say things like that.

"That is very offensive!"

"You're the one who said it! How the hell is this my fault?"

Ms. Holiday laughed. "You don't remember? Homogeneous means similar!" Just proved my point-too many homo words.

"It was one of the SAT Vocabulary words she assigned two weeks ago when she was covering Ms. Henderson's English class. We had a test on it last week," Kurt said.

We had a test? "I'm guessing I didn't do so good on that…"

Ms. Holiday started laughing again. "You know Finn, you have a truly remarkable mind." This was definitely the first time a teacher had ever said something like that to me. Good heart, nice voice, firm biceps (which was kind of weird but apparently I'm not the only kid Mr. Ryerson said that to)—I'd gotten all of those. But this was kind of special, even if Ms. Holiday had had a few beers.

"Wow, uh, thanks."

"I don't think she meant that in a good way," Kurt said.

Ms. Holiday looked hurt. "What kind of person do you think I am? Of course I meant it in a good way. Look at how he can notice a change in the bottles in Will's trunk and draw a conclusion based on that, but he can't recall something he studied for class."

"Was supposed to study for class," Kurt pointed out, which really pissed me off. First of all, he has no idea what I do when I'm alone in my room. Normally video games and TV and stuff but sometimes I study when nothing good is on. Second, even if he knew if I'd studied or not he shouldn't be ratting me out to a teacher.

"I promise I'm going to do better with those things." I actually have been trying to work on my vocab a bit, but it's hard. Too many words sound too similar and even if you know what you want to say you can still screw it up.

"It is interesting, maybe there is something hidden in there we don't see often," Blaine said.

Kurt was confused. "What do you mean?"

"It's almost like John Nash," Blaine said.

"Who's John Nash?" Kurt asked. It felt good Kurt was the one asking this time. Not that I knew who John Nash was.

"He was a brilliant mathematician—one of the smartest men who ever lived. But he had these horrible mental issues that made it almost impossible for him to function for much of his life. Every once in a while though, when he wasn't going crazy and acting strange, you'd see the genius shine through. We're talking about a guy who would spend most of his time talking to imaginary people but when he did real work it revolutionized economics."

"Wasn't that a movie?" I asked. I think Rachel made me watch that one.

"I think you might be taking this a little too far," Ms. Holiday said. She looked at me. "I mean this in the nicest possible way Finn, but I don't see you winning the Nobel for economics."

"That's cool. I wouldn't know what to do with it anyway."

Kurt rolled his eyes. "Just in case anyone needed additional convincing."

"My point," Blaine said, "is every once in a while Finn finds the brain-mouth connection and pulls something epic out of his ass."

"The last time something epic came out of Finn's ass we had to go to the neighbor's house until the plumber showed up."

Everyone thought that was freaking hilarious.

"OK, maybe I went a little too far suggesting he's a secret genius." Blaine put his arm on my shoulder. "Sorry buddy."

"Don't worry about it." I will get you Blaine. I don't know how or when or why but I will get you.

I finished up the third drink, and took a break for a few minutes before a fourth somehow showed up. I was starting to feel really out of it. "I'm pretty sure they put… something in my ice tea," I announced.

"What do you mean?" Ms. Holiday asked.

"I'm just feeling kind of… I don't know. Kind of… what's it called…"

"Light headed?"

"Yeah! Light headed. And a little dizzy but not really. It's weird. Almost like I've been drinking." I laughed a bit at that. Drunk from iced tea, how could that happen?

"Almost like? Finn, you've put away two and a half jumbo-sized Extra Long Island Ice Teas. Even for someone your size, that's a _lot_ of booze," Ms. Holiday said.

"Booze?" Slowly things started to make sense. Very slowly. I totally did not want to get buzzed. I didn't even want to get drunk.

"Booze, Finn. Alcohol. You knew that was in there when you ordered it, right?"

No. "Yeah. Of course." I guess I wasn't very convincing because she started laughing.

"Leave it to you to accidentally get drunk," Kurt said.

"I… Accidentally? It wasn't accident-" They weren't going to buy this. "Ok, I is."

"Be careful Finn. In places like this people prey on hot drunk guys like yourself. You don't want Kyle coming back, do you?"

"So now I'm hot? Back in the bathroom you kept making jokes about my chub." See what I mean about saying one thing and meaning another?

Ms. Holiday looked at me really funny. "So you—and Blaine, you know—in the bathroom?" She shook her head. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I really shouldn't ask that."

"It's cool. We we're all in the bathroom together," I said.

"Together?"

"Yeah. Me and Kurt and Blaine and I. You… they talked me into this. I didn't want to do it."

Kurt and Blaine giggled a little bit at that statement, which I thought was strange at the time. I think Ms. Holiday was pretty confused at this point. I think normally she would of picked up that something didn't make sense but she was pretty out of it herself.

"How do I phrase this? Did you guys have fun in there?"

"I guess… wait… no… not really. Blaine was working me the whole time and it was really hot."

"Just Blaine? I thought all three of you went in."

"Kurt was doing his thing in the other stall. I don't think he needed help."

Kurt was laughing too hard to comment on that, and I had no clue what was so funny but I just started laughing too.

"We needed someplace to work on our dance routine," Blaine explained to Ms. Holiday. "The bathroom was the only real option." He looked at me. "Sorry Finn. You just make it so easy sometimes... you know I love ya."

I stopped drinking mid-sip and starred at him. "Just to be, like, totally sure, you mean that in a non-gay sex way?"

"What is it with you and these sexual hang-ups?"

Kurt shook his head. "I've gotten used to it. For some reason he's very insecure when it comes to his sexuality." Kurt likes to play the victim, and he usually gets away with it. I mean, I really get that he's sensitive about this stuff, but he knows I get it and it pisses me off when he just wants to create problems. He knows damn well I'm open minded to all this.

"Hey, man… I live with a gay bro. My girlfriend has two gay dads. I just sang ABBA… what the hell do you want from me?"

"Really? Two gay dads you say?" Blaine smiled. "That's good… if one of them is straight it can be awkward."

"Sex isn't gay when it's done by two straight men together," Ms. Holiday said. I was starting to get the impression maybe Ms. Holiday had had more than a couple beers. She's really smart so she hides it well, but between that comment, buying us drinks, and calling me detail oriented she was acting really strange.

"Really?" I asked. "What do you…"

"We should probably call it a night," Kurt interrupted. "I told our dad we'd be home by one, and it's almost 1:30."

"Plus your best getting Finn to the car while he can still walk," Blaine said. "I don't think either of us could carry him." I didn't know if that was an honest observation or another joke, but I didn't really care anymore either.

We said goodbye to Ms. Holiday and headed outside. Blaine had his own car, and Kurt and me piled into his SUV. Kurt, of course, drove home. Not only was I still pretty out of it, he doesn't like me driving his SUV. And since I puked three times on the way home, he doesn't really like me riding in it anymore either.

When we got around the outskirts of Lima I remembered to check my phone. I had five text messages-all from Rachel:

** 9:55 I've been thinking where to go for lunch tomorrow. Not breadsticks again. Thoughts?**

** 10:22 You there? **

** 10:30 We're still on for tomorrow right?**

** 10:42 ANSWER ME FINN!**

**10:52 I'm going to bed. I hope you have a good explanation. I'll be at your place at noon. Be ready to go this time. Let me know if there is a prob.**

Crap. Telling Rachel I was out drinking wouldn't make this any better. But I didn't want to lie either. I typed out my reply quickly.

** 2:49 Sry. Was real busy. Kurt n me ran into Ms. Holiday and lost track of time. Lunch totally on. Luv u! **

Of course she was going to want to know what I was doing when we ran into Ms. Holiday, but I could figure that out later when my head wasn't so messed up. This would give her something to read when she woke up, something to keep her from boiling over until I could figure out something better.

We finally got home a few minutes after three, and I was in my bed about thirty seconds later. I realized I never took my shoes off, so I kind of kicked them until they came loose and then passed out.

* * *

A/N—Thanks again for reading. Reviews are encouraged and sincerely appreciated!


	3. Chapter 3

I had no idea what time it was when Kurt started knocking on my door. I knew it was light out; even with my face buried in a pillow the light coming in the window was hurting my eyes. I felt like crap, could barely move, and was thirsty as hell. The sheets were wet with sweat, and the room reeked something fierce.

I didn't answer Kurt, so he knocked louder. "Finn! It's important. You need to get up!"

Kurt saying something is important isn't really a good reason for me to wake up. This one time the little prick woke me up at 5am because he had to go somewhere fast and wanted to use the carpool lane. Basically, what's important to Kurt isn't important to the rest of the world. Of course, he doesn't really give a damn about that, so after I didn't answer he came on in. No matter how many times we've had the 'don't come into my room unless I say it's ok' talk he still does it. At first I told him that because I was worried he'd be checking me out in my sleep. Now it's just because he can be a pain in the ass.

"You missed your trash can," he said kind of deadpan.

I grumbled something like 'go away' but somehow he got 'please explain what you mean by that' out of it. Or he was just being a dick.

"When you puked. You completely missed the trash. I would have thought our star quarterback would have better aim."

At least now I knew what the smell was. "Go away."

"Finn. You need to get up and wash up," Kurt insisted. Like hell I did.

Actually I sort of did, lunch with Rachel and all. And last Sunday I had slept right through our anointed meeting time. She was pretty peeved about that, though on the plus side it was her fastest time ever from the front door to my bedroom. Normally that would be a _good_ thing. But that was then. I'd figure out some way to squeeze in another half hour of sleep. If I skipped shaving that would save a couple minutes. No brushing would save a minute or two, but ignoring oral hygiene on a date is kind of a big risk.

I'd figure it out. For now, I just needed him to leave. "Please go away?"

"I'm serious, you need to get up."

He wasn't getting it. Sometimes you need to be super blunt with Kurt. "Get the fuck out."

Kurt gave up on diplomacy and ripped the blankets off of me. "Your shoes are in bed with you."

I very reluctantly sat up. The light was burning my eyes, and my headache got worse every time I moved my head. "What the hell man?"

"Hey! I tried being nice. Mr. Shue and Ms. Holiday want to talk about last night."

"They want to what? Why?"

"I don't know. Probably to make sure you didn't do any alcohol related damage to that meager group of cells you call a brain."

"But it's Sunday."

"That's ok. Mr. Schue said they'd meet us anywhere, so I decided we should have a nice little get together at Morning Glow Coffee on Market Street."

"Why can't we just go to the Starbucks in the mall?"

"Because the Neanderthals who work there fail to understand that to make a latte they need to add flavorings before the steamed milk or else it doesn't properly mix the essence of the individual ingredients.

"Couldn't you just tell them that?"

"I shouldn't have to. Now hurry up. I told them we'd be there in an hour and-

"Wait… an hour? What time is it anyway?" I was more or less awake, but I still felt like I had the flu or ebola or something. Still, I finally managed to get my head off the pillow. This was progress, even if my eyes were still closed.

"The big hand is on the three and the little one is on the eleven."

"Oh ha ha. Seriously, what time is it?"

"Quarter after eleven."

"And Rachel is going to be here at noon."

"Another good reason to get out of bed," Kurt said.

"Dude, how am I supposed to meet Mr. Schue at the coffee place in an hour if I have lunch with Rachel in 45?"

"Invite her along."

"I don't know if Rachel will be cool with that," I said. I know _I_ wasn't down with company. Rachel and I hardly ever get to hang out where it's just us anymore. Between school and Glee and football and video games it seems like there is never any time. So we decided we'd do something on Sunday afternoons. I like sleeping in on Sundays, but spending time with Rachel is worth it.

"Oh, it will be fun. And it won't take long, and then you two lovebirds can go on your way."

"So you're just sort of inviting yourself on our date?"

"Don't be silly. I'm inviting Ms. Holiday and Mr. Schue. Come on Finn, Mr. Schue said it was important and I'm trying to meet you halfway."

"You just want an excuse to wear your new shoes." I don't really pay attention to Kurt's shoes, but it is always a safe bet he has a new pair.

"I'll admit it had crossed my mind. I recently purchased some Weitzman loafers, and they are _fabulous._"

"Do they come in men's sizes?"

"Very funny. True style doesn't have a gender." Note he didn't actually _answer_ me, and I'm pretty sure it does. I mean, maybe not in some places but this is _Ohio_. Sitting around a bug zapper drinking beer is an acceptable way to spend a Friday night. There was a protest when they tried to put a sushi bar in the mall. Dudes in high heels just don't go with that.

A sudden twisting in my gut made me bolt for the bathroom. Nothing much came up, which made sense; most of what was in there was on the floor in my room. Really, it just made me feel worse.

Kurt stood by the bathroom door. "If Rachel is stopping by at noon, that will give us just enough time to make it over to Market Street. Just make sure she's ready when she gets here." That pissed me off. I was not about to tell Rachel to 'hurry up because Kurt made other plans for us'. Not if I wanted to do anything fun after lunch at least. Before I had a chance to say that I felt the urge to pay tribute to the porcelain goddess again, and again it was disappointing. When I looked up, Kurt was gone.

After another dry heave, I took a quick shower. The cool water felt great, and by the time I got out I could open my eyes without feeling like someone was sticking a fork in them, more like just a toothpick or something. I found a few things on the floor of my room that looked clean, smelled them, and got dressed.

Kurt was waiting for me in the living room. The shoes actually weren't half bad. "You are going to wear _that_?" he asked.

I looked down. Blue sweatshirt, jeans that I didn't see any holes in, shoes that were almost the same color as when new… what was the problem? "Um, yeah?"

"Blue sweatshirt with blue jeans? You clearly don't understand the importance of contrast."

"You wear shit that's the same color all the time."

"Only when they are _intended_ to go together," he said. "Randomly mashing two like colored garments together is a recipe for a fashion fopa."

"We are going to get _coffee_."

"Just because we are going to a casual eatery doesn't give you an excuse to look like a slob."

"This coming from the guy who wears a tie to Wal-Mart."

"It was an adornment."

"It looked like a tie." It wasn't like it actually mattered, but screwing with Kurt about fashion is good entertainment.

"If ignorance is bliss, you must feel positively _orgasmic_." It's amazing how he can turn something fun into something creepy. "Speaking of orgasmic, have you told Rachel?" I don't know if the word orgasmic is a good transition word when talking about someone who's idea of a 'make out' normally doesn't involve taking off her bra...

"That you wore a tie to Wal-Mart? Maybe."

He frowned. "About our company at coffee."

"It's not _our_ anything, it's _our_ company." Kurt gave me a funny look, and I couldn't tell if he was confused or amused. "I mean you are Rachel and I's company too, you weren't supposed to be involved in this any more than Mr. Schue."

"Since when are you so down on Mr. Schue?"

"When he wakes me up on a Sunday and makes me share my girlfriend with him."

"If you don't want to share you could tell her to meet you after." Brilliant, Kurt. That's a surefire way to get to second base.

Actually, I knew second base might be kind of optimistic when the events of the previous night were revealed. One thing that's weird with Rachel; she expects me to learn from other peoples' mistakes. You know how most people are all 'yeah, it's cool, I've been there' Rach is more 'why didn't you pay attention to what happened last time'. And the thing is she likes to complain, and I knew she was irked about me not getting back to her the night before. So even though I didn't think she would have a big problem with what happened, she might pretend to have a big problem. If not the drinking, then she'd get me for ignoring her, if not that, she'd find something else.

"What should I tell Rachel about last night?"

"That you got drunk and almost hooked up with another dude."

"I'm being serious Kurt. I don't want to lie to her, but I don't want to say anything that will make her angry."

"I bet she has a pretty good idea of what happened last night. And after some of the stuff she's done with booze, I don't think she can really criticize you that much."

"You say that like my girlfriend isn't crazy."

"Lay it on slowly. It might be hard with Rachel, though, she is very nosy, and very persistent." I knew Kurt would have some good advice. He is, after all, a certain type of ladies man. But he was also right about Rachel being nosy. And if I looked like I felt, it probably wasn't too hard to tell what I'd been up to. So it was decided; play this 100% true but drag it out as long as I can. Before I could figure out how to do that, the doorbell rang.

I felt another twisting sensation in my gut, and I didn't know if I was about to make another bathroom visit or if I was nervous about what Rachel would say about last night. Maybe both. I ignored it and went to the door, doing my best to smile and look cheerful.

It actually wasn't too hard. As soon as I opened the door and saw Rachel there I just felt better. Her smile, her eyes… I don't know how one person can make another person feel so good, but she does. She had on this red blouse that made her boobs look great, which was cool because normally they don't really stand out that much.

"Ready to go?" Rachel asked, then she paused for a second. "Are you feeling ok?"

"Yeah, I didn't get enough sleep last night." That _was_ true.

"I will never understand how you can sleep until almost noon and still complain you are tired."

"I'll never understand how you can't."

"OK, I'm ready," Kurt called out from the hall.

"What do you mean you're ready?" Before he had a chance to answer, she turned to me. "What does he mean he's ready?"

"Um, Kurt and I thought it would be fun to grab some coffee."

Rach smiled at Kurt, than grabbed my collar and pulled me down low enough she could whisper in my ear. "Finn, you know I love Kurt, but this is supposed to be _our_ date. Not you, me, and Kurt."

"Well, actually, it won't be me, you, and Kurt. Mr. Schue and Ms. Holiday are coming too."

"You are blowing off our date to have a teacher/student conference?" She still had me by the collar but wasn't bothering to whisper anymore.

"Not blowing off, sort of changing up and pushing back. You like surprises, right?"

"I know your couples time is precious," Kurt said, "and this won't be long." She didn't look satisfied, so Kurt decided to take one for me. "It was my idea. I had to beg Finn. He really wanted to be alone with you."

Rachel thought about that for a few seconds and then nodded. "We should take separate cars so Finn and I can leave from the coffee shop."

I walked outside with Rachel, and damn the sun hurt.

"Are you sure you're OK?" she asked again.

"Yeah, sorry. I just have a bad headache." My eyeballs were on fire, but that was more detail than I wanted to go into. I'm not the kind of dude that complains about every ache and pain (is that really still a dude?) and I'm pretty good at covering up when something is wrong. Rachel knows me to well though. She knows the little signs that I can't hide.

"Where are we meeting everyone?" she asked after we got in her car.

"Morning Glory Coffee on Market Street," I told her.

The daylight was killing me, my head was pounding, and Rachel was blasting something from her Broadway collection that was turning my brain to goo. I just leaned forward, put my hands over my face, and tried to survive. After a few seconds Rach turned down the music, but I knew that wasn't a good thing. It meant she wanted to talk. And she can be all good cop/bad cop when she asks questions, so you never know what the hell is coming next. Of course, what really sucks is sometimes the good cop calls in sick.

"Finn... you look really bad. What is going on?"

"I told you, I'm really tired."

"I've seen you tired. You look sick."

"I'm not sick, Rach. Promise." I waited for her to say something, but she just kept driving. "Ok, I might have had a little to drink last night."

"That's why you were ignoring me last night?" She wasn't yelling, but she was using that loud angry voice she sometimes does. With the way I felt, it might as well have been yelling. "Too busy drinking with your buddies?"

"No Rach, it wasn't like that, I-"

"It was _exactly_ like that. Don't try and placate me Finn." We turned onto Market Street. "And where does Ms. Holiday fit into all this?"

"I don't know. She was just there too. I don't really remember all that good."

"So you, Kurt, and Holly Holiday went out drinking together? You went out drinking with a teacher? Do you have any idea how horribly wrong that is?"

"We didn't go out drinking with her. She was at the bar, and when we did the song she saw us."

Rachel turned into the parking lot. "What song?" She actually sounded a little bit calmer. She was actually interested in this. Sweet! One of the best ways to get Rachel off your back is to talk about music, but I hadn't thought it was going to work that time.

"We, uh, well we did 'Dancing Queen'."

She was quiet for a few seconds as she parked. Her eyes got wide. "You did… ABBA?" Then she just burst out laughing.

I felt my face turning red. "It wasn't that bad really. Kurt and Blaine came up with costumes and choreography."

"Blaine was there too?" She shook her head. "You know Finn, I'm actually proud of you."

"Come again?" This was not what I'd expected.

"I'm proud that my boyfriend has the confidence to go up on stage with his homosexual friends and do a song traditionally performed by women and gays." It _was_ a compliment, but it sort of made me feel embarrassed at the same time. She gave me a quick peck on the lips before opening her door. "I'm just sad I won't get to see it."

I grabbed Rachel's hand and we headed toward the entrance. Kurt was right next to her.

"It sounds like you guys had quite a night," Rach said with a little smile.

"It was fun. And very impressive if I may say so myself. Things worked out quite nicely. Even though he _was_ throwing the choreography off."

"Everyone is a critic."

"You did great. It's just after two and a half years in Glee I would have thought you could make it through a song without tripping over your own feet."

"I was drunk. What do you expect?"

Kurt laughed. "Excuses are like assholes, Finn. Everyone has one and they all stink."

I'd heard that one before, but I still couldn't help but smile. Maybe it was because it was coming from Kurt. Anyway, we when we got inside the coffee place I spotted Mr. Schue and Ms. Holiday and waved, but being the gentleman I am the first thing I did was ask Rachel what she wanted, and ordered her latte. Then I ordered my drink.

"Aren't you going to ask me what I want?" Kurt said.

"I wasn't planning on it. Why?"

"Well, it just seemed like the courtesy thing to do."

I stooped over a little to look him in the eyes. "I bought… a coffee… for my girlfriend. You are not my girlfriend, no matter what Ms. Sylvester says."

"If Mercedes were here, would you offer to buy her a drink?"

"Well… probably."

"How about Quinn?"

I shook my head. "Kurt, I know you don't like to admit it sometimes, but you're a _boy._ A dude. A guy. Guys don't buy other guys coffee just because they walked into the store together."

"Not even for their own brother?"

"When was the last time you bought _me_ coffee?" I thought I had him with that.

"When's the last time we went out for coffee together?" Kurt always has to do that. I come up with the perfect end to an argument and he has to just mess it all up.

"Whatever man. The answer is **no**."

We stopped by the little bar thing with the sugar and creamer and stuff before heading over to where Mr. Schue and Ms. Holiday were sitting. I'd gotten a cold drink, and you don't really need to add anything to that, but Rachel is very particular about her lattes.

As we were walking over to the table, Rachel put her hand on my arm and stopped. "You know, we didn't finish talking about last night in the car. The song is great, but that's not what we really need to discuss."

Crap. It _was_ too good to be true. "I'm sorry I ignored you and-"

"That's not what I mean. Well, I am a bit upset about that, but mostly I worry about you."

I gave her a confused look.

"I mean when you go out with friends and it involves drinking and other antics. I'm enough of a realist to know that testosterone laden booze-fests are part of a young man's life, but I want you to always be careful. You know what has happened before-like that incident Freshman year. I'm sure you remember that."

I looked at me feet. "Yes, I remember."

"I'm not bringing that up to embarrass you. I simply want you to remember what happens when alcohol mixes with poor judgment."

I stooped over and looked her in the eyes. "Rach, there are a few things I want. I mean, really want in life. I want to win this year's football championship. I want to win Nationals this year. I want to get at least a D in geometry so I can graduate. But most importantly, I want to be with you. And I will never let alcohol or anything else get in the way of any of that, or between me and you. That's a promise."

She gave me a hug and a peck on the cheek, and we went to sit down with Mr. Schue, Ms. Holiday, and Kurt.

**A/N: Thanks so much for the reviews and favorites! As always, feedback is greatly appreciated. I hope you enjoyed the start of what I hope will be an interesting Finn/Rachel dynamic!**


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: Lots of delays getting this out, but hopefully it was worth the wait. As always thanks to everyone for reading and reviewing, and as always thanks to wood-u-like-2-no for his excellent suggestions!**

The booths at the coffee place are pretty small, so it was going to be a bit of a tight squeeze for five people. I saw Mr. Schue had already pulled up a spare chair. Ms. Holiday had slid all the way in, and Kurt sat next to her with me and Rach on the other side of the table.

I was still a little confused about the whole thing. It wasn't like it was the first time I'd seen Mr. Schue outside of class, but it was never a last minute 'hey lets go get coffee' kind of thing like this.

"Thanks for coming guys," Mr. Schue started. "How are you all doing?"

We all said we were fine, which was true for Kurt and Rachel, not so much for me, but even though Mr. Schue is pretty cool for a teacher, he is still a teacher. I didn't really want to bring up the whole hangover thing, though I think he could tell.

"So I have some exciting news," Mr. Schue said. "I was just talking with Holly-Ms. Holiday-and she is looking at buying as house!"

"That's great," I said, "but, um, couldn't we have talked about this Monday?"

Ms. Holiday ignored me. "I've spent so much time going from one place to another, never doing anything permanent. But I like it here. I really do. And I think it is time to take a big step and say that Lima is where I want to be."

"Good for you," Kurt said. He was cheerful, but I could tell he was confused too. And not just about the urgency and all. I seriously don't think either of us had ever heard anyone say 'Lima is where I want to be' before. I'm not really sure if anyone at all had ever said that before. "Oh, and whatever you do, you absolutely _have_ to let me help you decorate."

"I just fell in love with this house just west of country club and the reservoir, but I don't know if it is right for me. I really don't need three bedrooms."

"Can't you use them for something else?" I asked. Seriously-who decides what's a bedroom and what's not. If you put a stove in a bedroom is it still a bedroom?

"I probably could," she said, "but it is still much bigger than I need." She smiled slightly. "It would make for some awesome parties."

"I think it would be phenomenal if you turned one bedroom into a recording studio," Rachel said. She didn't actually say 'for me' but it was sort of implied.

"Kurt, Rachel, she hasn't even decided to buy the house," Mr. Schue said. "I think it is too soon to be designating what a bedroom will be or coming up with a design theme."

Kurt seemed a little put off by that. "Well, if we aren't going to be talking about decor, how about we talk about why we are _really_ here?"

"We do have an pressing need to discuss our set list for regionals," Rachel said, starring at Mr. Schue. "Since you've been avoiding that conversation for weeks, however, I doubt that you'd suddenly be approaching that matter with such as sense of urgency."

The happiness sort of faded from Mr. Schue's face, kind of like a one of the silver balloon things you get on your birthday as a kid that shrivels up after a couple weeks. "We want to make sure you understand what happened last night."

I could see where this was going. "I know I shouldn't be drinking, especially not in a bar like that, and I'm sorry."

"It wasn't the smartest thing you've ever done," Ms. Holiday said, "but that isn't why we need to talk. The real problem is _I_ let you guys down last night."

This was not what I had been expecting. Rachel put her hand on my shoulder, then looked straight at Ms. Holiday. "What did you do?" It was a good question because I hadn't figured it out either and I was there.

"Last night, when Finn ordered a drink, well, let's just say Stevie Wonder could have seen he didn't belong there."

Rachel frowned. "I fail to see why Finn not being a regular bar patron would be a problem."

"You are exactly right Rachel," Mr. Schue said, "But in this instance..."

"Anything that attracts attention to yourself when you are doing something illegal is a bad thing," Ms. Holiday said. "The waitress asked Finn if he wanted to start a tab, and he just gives her a deer in the headlights look. A young guy in a bar who doesn't know what she means by a tab, well this isn't quite right is it?"

"She could have realized we were underage," Kurt said.

"And a circle gets the square. It wouldn't take Dick Tracey to figure out you might want to take a closer look at those ID's.

"Underage drinking laws in Ohio can be pretty strict," Mr. Schue said. "It is a criminal offense, and can be punishable with anything from suspension from school to six months in prison."

My eyes went wide. "Six months in jail?"

Mr. Schue nodded. "Normally the judge is pretty lenient with first time offenders, but you never know."

"And I didn't want you guys to have to go through any of that, even if you get off easy the whole thing's a complete drag. So I put it on my tab." She shrugged. "That shut her up."

"Yeah, about that, thanks Ms. H. And I'll get you back like you said."

"I'm not worried about the money Finn." She shook her head and looked at the table. "I bought alcohol for an underage student. That might make me the coolest teacher in Ohio, but it's also seriously wrong. I should have figured out some way to just get you out of there, but I had let myself go. I wasn't thinking clearly and I made a mistake."

"I've made mistakes," I said, "We're cool."

"Finn, I don't know if you understand how serious this is," Mr. Schue said. "If people were to find out what happened, Ms. Holiday would lose her job." Now I was starting to see why we needed to meet about this on a Sunday.

"I've lived most of my life ignoring the consequences and just taking things as they come, but recently I've really tried to become more—be part of the community. Like I said, I'm thinking about buying a house, I'm actually thinking of committing to something for the first time in years."

"But you still need to let loose and be your old self once in a while," Kurt said, "Which is what you were doing last night."

"Exactly. I go someplace far out of town where I don't need to worry about letting it all hang out. I went half way to Toledo just to try and avoid what happened."

There was one of those uncomfortable silences. Everyone else was looking at me. "So, uh, I guess apology accepted?"

"I hate to ask you this, I hate to put you in this position, but please, _please_, don't tell anyone what happened." Ms. Holiday suddenly looked very sad. I'd never seen her like that before. She turned to Mr. Schue. "I can't believe I'm asking students to keep a secret. We spend years teaching these kids not to lie, and then I ask them to cover this up? Maybe I should just resign."

Mr. Schue reached across the table and grabbed her hand. "You made a mistake. It was a big mistake, but these guys… they _know_ you, they _care_ about you, and the last thing they want is to hurt you. Sometimes you need to do a little something bad to protect something good. They all understand that."

Oh I understood… and I was going to prove it. "It's ok Ms. H. I totally get it. Do you know how few teachers care about us the way you do? How few try to connect with their students?" I looked down at the table. "I-We don't want to lose that."

Ms. Holiday smiled at me. "That really means a lot Finn."

"We all feel that way," Kurt said. "And this may be the only time I ever utter this phrase, but Finn said it better than I could."

"I know that we've had our professional disagreements and artistic differences," Rachel said, "not to mention I find some of your more creative lesson plans discordant, unnecessarily elaborate, and lacking in educational value, but Finn is right. When it comes right down to what matters-caring about us-you are the type of teacher we need."

"You have no idea how grateful I am that you guys are all so supportive." She reached her left arm around Kurt and gave him a hug. "I know you guys are great and all, but you always worry when someone has dirt on you…"

"You thought we'd try to extort you?" Rachel said, sounding pissed and proving as always she can change moods very quickly.

"Extort?" I asked. I recognized that word from some lawyer show. "You mean… like blackmail and stuff?"

"That's what it means, Finn," Kurt said kind of deadpan.

Now I was feeling about the same as Rachel. "You seriously thought we'd try to blackmail you?"

"I shouldn't have even thought it," Ms. H. said, "I'm sorry. I was just so nervous."

"And sometimes even good people use bad judgment," Mr. Schue said.

"I know, but, that's just... wrong."

Mr. Schue sighed. "You're right." He paused for a second. "You're a good man, Finn. Never let anyone make you think otherwise."

That had kind of come out of the blue. I always wonder if Mr. Schue knows how much it means to me when he says stuff like this. I know it sounds kind of strange to say it, but most guys have one dad; I've sort of got three. Four if you count my mom, because she did do a lot of the dad stuff, but she probably would rather not be called dad.

Anyway, the point is I never really knew one of my dads, though I've tried really hard to live up to what I've heard about him. The first person to really show me what it meant to be a man, the closest thing I had to a farther in years, was Mr. Schuster. He sets an example to live up to, gives me advice, and just tries to help me out however he can. He's honest, hardworking, caring-that's what I want to be like as a person. And when _he_ says I'm on my way to that, it's a big deal to me.

I was still trying to think of something to say to that when Rachel asked, "What about Blaine?"

Mr. Schue frowned. "I don't think Blaine would try to—"

"No," she interrupted, "me either, but if he doesn't know how important it is to keep quiet, he could unwittingly let something slip."

"I'll text Blaine right now and let him now to keep this on the DL." Kurt smiled. "Even if he didn't share our sentiment, I've got enough dirt on him to keep him quiet."

"Really?" I asked. "I always thought Blaine was a straight shooter."

Kurt gave me a dirty look. "You just can't help yourself can you?"

"What do you—oh, come on, that was a compliment!"

Kurt rolled his eyes. "Whatever." He looked at Ms. Holiday. "I was pretty sure you wouldn't want any of the guys to see you, uh, impaired, so I already cut everything with you off the video I gave Puck."

My head spun around to look at Kurt so fast it would have hurt even if I didn't have hangover. "What video?"

"It's not a big deal. I got the ID's from Puck, and in return he wanted a video of the song."

"And you _gave it to him_?" My voice was about an octave higher than usual at this point. For the first time that day, I forgot about the pounding pain in my head.

"Relax, he promised not to show it to anyone else. "

I launched myself across the table before Kurt had a chance to react. Mr. Schue seemed to have known what was coming—he'd quietly put his drink on the floor-and his hands were on my shoulders before I got my hands on Kurt. Rachel gasped, which I thought was because she was surprised but later I saw I'd knocked my drink into her lap. Fortunately Rachel and Ms. H. had a good grip on their drinks, and Kurt's missed Mr. Schue by a few inches which was really good because it was still hot and that would have really sucked.

"Take it easy, big guy," Mr. Schue said quietly. I thought about trying to get my hands on Kurt one more time, but Mr. Schue had a good grip on me by this time. Not that he's really strong enough to stop me, but he slowed me down enough to stop and think. So sitting with my knees on the booth seat and my body stretched across the table, I just starred at Kurt, fumigating.

"I'm sorry Finn, I didn't think you'd be this upset. It isn't like he is going to put it on YouTube."

"Like hell he won't."

"He promised."

"Really, he promised" I mocked. "Just how dumb are you?" I'm sure Kurt knew deep down that Puck was lying, but through some twisted logic managed to convince himself that Puck could be trusted because he really wanted to do the song.

"Calm down. You don't know if he's going to post anything. He may surprise you." Like a teacher, Mr. Schue always tries to diffuse things.

Rachel put her hand on my back. "Noah has done stranger things. Mr. Schue is right, you can never be sure what he is going to do. You, on the other hand, are going to be buying me new pants." She pointed to where my drink had landed on her leg. I slowly slid back into my seat and took a deep breath. When I tried to put my arm around her, Rachel ducked away. It's amazing how often our dates turn into damage control. At least this was a pretty small problem and I had the whole afternoon to make it up to her. Plus, I've gotten pretty good at damage control. Pretty much had to.

"You see, violence is not the answer." Kurt said.

"Don't be an instigator Kurt," Mr. Schue said. That's teacher speak for shut up.

Rachel finished dabbing herself with napkins and looked at Mr. Schue. "If that issue is resolved, I still want to discuss my concerns regarding song selection at regionals."

"How come whenever we have a chance for a nice conversation, you need to start complaining about what songs we are doing?" Kurt asked. Rachel looked at me like I was supposed to back her up, but I kind of agreed with him.

"Passion about the quality of our program is hardly a negative," Rachel said. "I expect you to be willing to discuss any reservations I have, and extend the same courtesy to you."

Kurt made a strange face. "In that case, I _do_ have an issue." Kurt gave me one of his looks. "I take it you are still stubbornly refusing to do that selection we discussed for duets week?"

"First of all, I'm doing my duet with Rachel. And B, there is no way in hell I'm doing 'Are You Strong Enough to be My Man.'"

"The immutable Sheryl Crow," Rachel said, "Frankly, I'd be happy to have my boyfriend join you in such an endeavor."

I _knew_ she was just saying that because of the wet spot on her pants, but I didn't know how to point that out without digging myself into a deeper hole.

"To be fair, it is not a song that's regularly performed as a duet," Mr. Schue said.

"True, though she did a cool live performance of it with Stevie Nicks," Ms. Holiday said.

I gave her a confused look. "She got a _guy_ to sing it with her?" Everyone else burst out laughing.

"Stevie Nicks is a woman," Ms. Holiday said when she caught her breath.

I gave her a really confused look. "Some parents gave their daughter a guy's name?"

"It's short for Stephanie," she said.

"Not that you're one to talk," Kurt injected. I knew he was baiting me so I didn't say anything. After a few seconds he just kept talking anyway. "I mean, look at your name-it's a fish appendage?"

"A what?"

"It's also a nationality."

"So?"

"And it's French for end."

"Remind me to start caring some time." I rolled my eyes. "Trust me, I've heard them all, except that fish appendix one. But at least it's a guy's name."

"Do you have any evidence of that?"

"Shut up."

Mr. Schue was trying not to laugh. Rachel and Ms. Holiday were both smiling. Apparently this edition of the Kurt and Finn show had been entertaining. The one good thing back when Kurt was crushing on me was I didn't need to deal with this shit.

I heard Kurt's phone go off. "Hey... No, he's with me…. I don't know why… no we're not at the hospital… but I—" He listened for another few seconds and handed the phone to me. "It's dad."

"Hello?"

"So you think by not answering your phone you can just get away with this?" Burt sounded pretty mad. I gave Kurt the 'a little warning would have been nice' look. He shrugged.

"My phone's in the car—what are you talking about?"

"You know I hate it when you play dumb Finn. You're not a child. You know to clean up after yourself."

"Oh, ah, yeah, I guess—" I realized my bedroom probably smelled pretty nasty by then.

"That you should have cleaned up before you ran out of the house? That's for sure. You had your Mom worried sick. When we got home all we smelled was your puke and for all she knew you were in the emergency room. Knowing what time you guys came in this morning, I had a different thought about what happened. We'll be talking about that too."

"But, I, uh…"

"No excuses. Get home, get this cleaned up, and pray that we don't need to redo your carpet. Your mom and I are not paying for it."

I looked across the table at my brother. "You're going to make Kurt buy me a carpet?" Burt hung up.

So much for an afternoon of damage control with Rachel. I handed the phone back to Kurt and turned to her. "So, I kind of got to bail on lunch, can we plan—"

"Really, just like that?" Yet again, she changes moods scary fast.

"I need to take care of some stuff at home." I knew she was going to want more details, but I didn't really want to go into exactly what the stuff was.

"And you didn't even _try_ to get a reprieve."

"What—never mind. Look, it's something I got to do. I'm already in trouble, I can't put this off."

"Well, maybe instead of just blowing me off you should ask if I want to go with you. After all, if it is so critically important some additional help couldn't hurt."

I'll admit I'm not always 100% with the romance stuff, but I am pretty good at it and even if I wasn't I'd know that cleaning up vomit isn't going to be a good plan for a date. It's got to be about the most unromantic thing you can do. Well, maybe not for everybody. Ms. Holiday did this thing on 'fetishes' in sex-ed and some people are weird. I always thought a fetish was a baby before it's born, but apparently it can also means you get turned on by feet.

Anyway, I'm a pretty chill guy. Really. But at this point I was starting to get frustrated. "Just trust me Rach, it's not something you'd like."

"So now you are going to tell me what I want?" she said. I put my head down on the table. I wasn't sure if Rachel was really upset or just making a scene because she wanted to guilt me into something, but it didn't really matter. Even if I knew it was an act it's not like I could call her on it or anything. And it doesn't make it any less annoying for me.

"No… I…"

"I know. Once again, you put something off that you had to do and now it is interfering with our date. This pattern of procrastination is exhausting and maddening."

She was sort of right, though unlike cleaning the basement three weeks ago this problem sort of came out of nowhere. Regardless it wasn't worth dancing around the truth. "OK, Fine. Do you want to go back to my place and help me clean up my puke?"

She scowled at me. "What is wrong with you?"

"What do you want? I really mean that… I'm not trying to get you angry, I just don't know what to do."

"What I want? How about the ability to plan a date with my boyfriend without him sleeping in, spilling a drink on me, or needing to run home to clean vomit!"

"Rachel," Ms. H. said, "You need to cut people slack sometimes. Chill out. Relax."

"I am relaxed Ms. Holiday, and I am a realist. I give Finn an exceptional amount of latitude but eventually enough is enough." She turned back to me. "I'm not trying to upset you or make a threat. I love you Finn. But you need to learn that you can't keep pushing me aside because you put off your responsibilities to play video games. And if that means I need to make some sacrifices of my own, I will." She nudged me. "Get up. In order for that statement to have its intended impact it requires a dramatic exit. I'll admit it would be more effective if I were sitting on the outside of the booth."

I hesitated. If I stayed put, Rachel had to either go under or over the table, which had some entertainment value, or stay in her seat, which might let us work a few things out. On the other hand, I didn't really feel like talking about our relationship in front of Mr. Schue and Ms. Holiday, and trapping her might make her angrier. I reluctantly got up.

"I'm sorry about the pants. Let's go to the mall tonight and pick out some nice ones."

"Maybe. You really need to take some time to think about how you are going to be more reliable." She leaned in to kiss me, thought better of it. "I'll call you later if I decide I want to go shopping." That's not something I normally want to hear from her, but I actually _wanted_ to take her shopping this time. Well, I guess not really, but I wanted to be with her and keep her from getting angrier so it seemed like a good idea.

She walked away before I had a chance to say anything else.

"Who crapped on her lawn furniture," Ms. Holiday said.

"I don't know, I wasn't there for that and it was a long time ago."

"It's a figure of speech Finn." Ms. Holiday rolled her eyes. "You've got yourself one interesting woman."

"She's so high maintenance you need a full time mechanic," Kurt said. He laughed. No one else did. It actually wasn't a bad idea though, having some kind of relationship assistant. Like a guy who reminds you of important dates, picks up candy and flowers, and comes up with cute things to write on cards. Might actually be something you could make into a business, but I think I'd try the shoe fridge first.

Mr. Schue slowly pushed himself away from the table. "I just want to say thank you. I knew you both would never do anything to hurt Ms. Holiday."

Ms. Holiday grabbed Kurt's and my hands. "Seriously guys, it means a lot to me. Not just the promise to keep things on the DL, but what you said to me. Especially you Finn." I smiled at that. "Now if only you could get that same kind of eloquence into Thursday's essay assignment."

We said our goodbyes and walked out to the parking lot. With Rachel long gone, I rode home with Kurt.

"It must be her time of the month," he said as he started the car. That was something else Ms. Holiday taught us. In fact, the class where she had everyone pretend they were PMS'ing was awesome until someone put a hole in the wall. Turns out nobody ever got around to removing the asbestos in room 211.

"I guess. I probably should try and watch out for that more."

"You know why they call it PMS?" Kurt asked.

"Uh, duh, it stands for... what does it stand for again?"

"Because Mad Cow Disease was already taken."

**A/N: Thanks again for reading! Reviews are encouraged and sincerely appreciated! More coming soon!**


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N-Thanks again for the kind reviews. It always means a lot to see what people think of the story, and I really appreciate the time some of you take to comment on several chapters. I also want to thank my beta reader wood-u-like-2-no for his exceptional suggestions. I hope you enjoy!**

Cleaning puke is even less exciting than it sounds. It's like regular cleaning, but harder and smells worse. Normally I try and get my mind off cleaning and stuff with music, but my phone was still in Rachel's car and it had most of my MP3's on it. So I was stuck using my laptop to play things from Mom and Burt's CD collection. The problem is, they have some good stuff mixed in with dozens of albums form the 20s or whatever. It takes a while to pick through and find something from this century.

"I thought you were supposed to be upstairs cleaning?" Burt said from behind me. I stood up and smacked my head on a shelf.

"I was going to; I'm just trying to find something to listen to."

He looked amused. "You're looking at 200 CDs and you can't find anything you want to listen to?"

"I guess I don't really know most of it. I mean, the stuff I know I like I've heard a million times and the other stuff is kind of boring."

"Boring? This is the stuff I grew up on. Sometimes you need to open up to new things. I thought you Glee guys were supposed to be big on that?"

I think I'm pretty open to new things. Some of the stuff I've done in Glee is totally not me, but most of the time I can make it work and at least live with it. But cleaning isn't the time to try out new stuff, you want something that you know is going to keep you pumped. I knew I hadn't more than a few hours of sleep in the past two days, so the last thing I needed was some slow-mo 1970s love ballad. Don't get me wrong, Burt has some pretty good taste when it comes to classic rock, but he also listens to things that are so old I think they were written by Mozart and that deaf guy.

Burt looked over the shelf and pulled four CDs off. "Just man up and try something new. These aren't what you are used to, but I think you'll like at least a few of these."

I looked them over. "Billy Joel is pretty cool, and I guess Elton John some good stuff to have made it so big." I didn't get how listening to a guy who dressed like Kurt was manning up. "Dunno Bruce Cockburn."

"It's pronounced Co-burn."

"Oh, I guess that makes more sense." Cock-burn sounds like something I'd want to avoid.

I think Burt got that too because he smiled a little. "Cockburn's been around a while, and he's a pretty good singer—you know, for a Canadian." Suddenly his face looked way less friendly. "Now get your ass upstairs and clean your damn room. I told a guy I'd have his Chevy ready to go tomorrow morning so I need to swing by the shop, and then your Mom and I are having a romantic dinner at Olive Garden. If that stain is still there when I get back I'll be calling a carpet cleaning company first thing in the morning. You won't be taking Rachel out to Olive Garden or anywhere else…

"Actually I don't really go to Olive Garden 'cause of… nevermind. Don't worry, I got this."

"I hope so. You dropped the ball big time this morning, and you should know better. Now fix it."

I thought that was a little overdramatic, but I got what he meant.

I can get into most music, at least for a little while, so I wasn't too worried. Still, it is tough to like anything you are playing on crappy laptop speakers. My earbuds have been missing ever since Puck put that fish through the Rock Creek Deli's front window. That doesn't really have anything to do with me losing my ear buds, but it happened the same day and the image of Puck throwing a four foot mounted swordfish through a window is something that sticks with you. I bet most of the people in the Deli remember too. He said it had to do with something not being kosher or whatever, but since I've seen him eat stuff that I know Rachel has said isn't cool for Jews I called him on it. He said it was because of Rosh Chodesh. I still don't know what that dude had on him that he could tell Puck what to eat.

Anyway, the stuff had all dried and hardened and was really hard to scrape up. Even if you do there was more that had soaked into the carpet so it still has that nasty color. It takes forever to get that out. The music did help for a bit. I started on the Billy Joel, and was doing pretty well. It's sort of upbeat for the most part, not really the best thing to get pumped up on but it works. Some of the Elton John stuff was a little too slow for good working music, so by the time I was halfway through that album I'd pretty much had it.

The cleaning wasn't really working anyway, and I'd tried everything I could think of. Windex, shampoo, laundry detergent , that powder stuff from the dishwasher, whatever I could find. I had like a dozen bottles of cleaning stuff stacked up, and none of it was working. I was worn out and frustrated. In two hours I'd managed to clean an area of carpet the size of my shoe, and it was still orange. I couldn't help but wonder what the hell I'd eaten that stained so bad.

I was fed up. It had been over an hour of nothing but scrubbing and it barely looked any better. I took the brush I'd been using and chucked it across the room. It bounced off the wall and knocked down my OSU poster, which just made me more pissed. I kicked over a bunch of bottles, and to be honest, I didn't really give shit if it made a mess. Maybe soaking the floor in that crap would help. Either way, it was enough for now. I walked out and slammed the door.

I was tired and thirsty and grabbed a coke. The ice maker still wasn't working, but at least the fridge had kept it cold. Stretching out on the couch I wondered why Rachel hadn't called yet, then remembered my phone was in her car. I could see it already: Mr. Irresponsible didn't answer his phone because he lost it. I figured I'd borrow Kurt's cell at some point and call her, sort of try and head things off.

I watched TV for about five minutes before I fell asleep. After all, I'd just spent an hour scrubbing floors and really hadn't slept much at all in the past 24 hours. Plus the sofa is just too comfy. I miss some of our old furniture, but the sofa we have now is awesome, and it's seriously the first piece of living room furniture we've ever had that I can really stretch out on without hanging off the ends. I don't really know what time it was when Kurt grabbed my shoulder and shook me awake. It was pretty dark already.

"So this is how you clean?" Kurt asked, smiling.

"What do you want?"

"Actually, _I _wanted to talk to you," Blaine said, stepping into my view. He actually looked a bit embarrassed. "Sorry to wake you up man, it could have waited but I didn't know…"

I propped my head up a bit so I could see them better. "It's cool, _you_ didn't wake me up."

"Yeah, well, still." He paused for second, and it was kind of strange. I know Kurt's always saying how Blaine can be so sensitive and nervous about stuff and all, but when I see him he's normally pretty confident so it's weird when he doesn't seem to know what he wants to say.

"What's up?" I asked.

"I just, I… kind of feel bad about last night. I was pretty rough on you."

"I barely even remember last night." If I'd seen the video at that point I might have been less understanding.

"You did have a little bit… anyway, the point is Kurt had said he wanted rib you a bit, and then add in I had a few beers, and I just went overboard."

I sat up the rest of the way and Blaine jumped backwards like he thought I was about to come after him. It was kind of funny really. "We're cool dude. Though if that video shows up on youtube I might need to rethink that."

"That's a joke, right?" Blaine asked.

"Not sure yet."

I let him think about that for a few seconds then got up. "I guess I need to finish up this cleaning crap."

"Do you want some help? I guess I kind of owe you one?" On one hand even asking someone to help clean that nastiness was messed up, but I didn't want to spend another 8 hours working on it either. It's not like I had asked him to do it—he volunteered.

"Sure, yeah… I mean, I can find you some gloves or something if you want."

He nodded and followed me to the kitchen. Kurt gave me a pissed off look. I guess he had wanted to spend some time with Blaine that did involve cleaning my puke, which I can totally relate to. I didn't want to be involved in that either.

Gloves in hand, we headed up to my room. I opened the door, stepped inside, and in a few seconds my eyes started to burn like crazy. A few seconds after that, I was coughing, the kind of really nasty coughs that make you think you're about to puke out your lungs. It was like in ten seconds I'd gone back to feeling how I did in the morning, except this was so much worse. I started to stoop over when Blaine grabbed my shirt, pulled me back through the door, and slammed it shut. I fell to the ground coughing, closing my eyes and putting my hands over them. Even my skin burned a little, but it was my eyes and the coughing that really got to me.

"What the hell happened?" Kurt asked as he came up the stairs and saw me lying there.

I heard Blaine cough a few times. "I think some chemicals must have gotten mixed. It is seriously bad in there."

"Are you ok?" Kurt asked. "Do you need something to drink?" I didn't answer.

"We need to pull up WebMD or something," Blaine said. His voice was horse from coughing.

My skin didn't burn anymore, but my eyes still did and when I tried to talk it hurt like a bitch so I just stayed quiet. I did manage to sit up against the wall, and gave Kurt a thumbs up that I was still alive. He was almost in tears, though that could have been from whatever the hell had fucked up me and Blaine.

Kurt sat with me for a couple minutes while Blaine grabbed Kurt's laptop and started looking for information. He broke it down for us as he read.

"Well, as you guys know"—He looked at me—"or should know, mixing together cleaning chemicals can make some nasty stuff. It looks like our symptoms are consistent with chlorine gas, so it was probably something acidic mixed with something ammonia-based."

Exactly _how_ was I supposed to know that? It had been like a year since I took chemistry, and that whole class was a disaster for me anyway. The only chemistry stuff I remember is that you put baking soda and vinegar together to make a volcano, and I learned that in elementary school.

Blaine continued: "The good news is it says that the amount that's made by mixing cleaning chemicals is painful but normally not extremely dangerous, and we were in there for less than 10 seconds. It does recommend getting checked by a physician if you have breathing problems for an extended period."

There was no way I was going to a doctor because I'd somehow managed to make nerve gas or whatever. Unless I was dying, but by then I was pretty sure I wasn't.

"It says here in the event of an inadvertent spill, do not enter the affected area without protection until it has been thoroughly ventilated for several hours." I wondered why a condom would help, then I realized that wasn't the type of protection they were talking about. I didn't really matter, I wasn't planning on going back in there anyway.

"The only way you can ventilate that place is to open the window," Kurt said, "and you can't do that without going in."

"Can you open it from the outside?" Blaine asked.

"They lock from the inside."

I opened my eyes and looked up at them. "So what the hell are we supposed to do?"

"Holy crap man, your eyes... they're red!" Blaine said. Even though I hadn't seen them, this was not a surprise.

I saw Kurt grimace a bit too when he saw my eyes, but I guess he didn't want to scare me by saying anything else. "I don't know. But the only way for air to get in is through the window or the door. And the door is out."

I knew it was stupid, but it was the best thing I could come up with: "We can break the window."

"You can't be serious. Do you know how angry dad will be if we do that?" Kurt said. "He was furious when Mercedes put that hole in my windshield, and that wasn't even my fault!"

"But this time there is a good reason," Blaine said.

I didn't really like it either, but this was my mess and I was going to fix it. Maybe my logic isn't all that, but after that morning I needed to prove to Burt that I could take responsibility and get stuff done without his help. Either I waited for the rents to get home and admitted I couldn't do something as simple as clean my room, or I could man up, make the hard choice, and fix it myself. I wasn't going to redeem myself sitting on my ass waiting for Burt.

If I did it right, they never needed to know. I'd helped Burt fix a window the year before when we had a tree limb fall on the house, and my bud Mark worked part time at the Home Depot, so he could help me get the class cut to size and all for pretty cheap. It really wouldn't be that hard, or that expensive. I just needed to make sure Mom and Burt didn't see it before I had a chance to replace it. I figured if I put the blinds down it would make it less obvious, and I'd cut out of Glee practice a little early to pick up the glass.

We went outside, and the cold air made me feel a lot better. My eyes were all runny and fiery and stuff, but I wasn't coughing much and my skin didn't burn anymore, so that was good.

Kurt shook his head. "Maybe we should just wait for Dad to get home."

"No. This was my fuck-up, I fix it. I'm going to break the window, let the air clear out, then finish cleaning. I _promised_ I'd get it done."

"Ok, how exactly?"

My first thought was to grab a football, but I wasn't sure if it would be enough to break through. After all, I'd hit other windows on the house with a football and they didn't break, but I wasn't really trying then. If I could get enough force behind it, it might just work.

It didn't really matter though. Both of my footballs were in my room, and though Burt probably had one somewhere searching the basement and garage could take forever. I looked around for a good rock instead. They don't fly as well as a football and it's harder to aim, but I found one that I thought would work. The aiming thing was going to be tough for another reason; my eyes were still watering and everything was blurry, almost like whatever that thing is you get as a kid that makes your eyes pink.

"You got this? I can't really see straight." I handed the rock to Kurt.

"Didn't you just finish lecturing me how this was your responsibility?" Kurt scoffed. "In addition to the fact I find it blatantly distasteful to destroy our own property just so you don't need to admit your mistake, you are the quarterback. I would hope you could handle this."

"Yeah, normally but-" No point in wasting any more time discussing it with Kurt. It was pretty much the reaction I'd expected. "Blaine?"

"Sorry, Finn. This isn't my house. I feel for you, but this just... ."

"What happened to I owe you one?"

"Again, I thought we were here for _you_ to fix _your _mistake," Kurt said before Blaine could answer.

I took the rock back, and tried to judge my throw as best I could. It was getting dark, my eyes hurt, and the window looked a lot higher off the ground from outside than it did when I was in my room. I hurled the stone and watched it bounce off the siding about a foot to the left of the window.

"Nice aim Tom Brady," Kurt said. That was actually a pretty good football reference for him-I was impressed.

I found another rock and tried again. This time I hit the window but didn't break it.

"You need a bigger rock," Blaine suggested. He was right, so I found one. Of course, trying to aim a big rock is a _lot_ harder than throwing a football. I had to try anyway, and with a nasty sound that startled all of us, the rock hit over top of my window and tore a six foot chunk of gutter off the side of the house. We all just starred, speechless.

"What the hell was that!" I heard Burt yell from around the front of the house. Seconds later here was there, glaring at us.

"Oh... you're... home..." Kurt said. I was still kind of paralyzed. That's when anther chunk of gutter fell down.

Burt's face was getting red. "Unbelievable! We leave you alone for a few hours and you destroy the god-damn house! What the hell is wrong with you?"

I tried to answer, but I still was having trouble. I was totally ashamed; I mean, what started as not cleaning up a mess now involved filling my room with toxic gas and ripping things off the outside of the house. "I'm sorry, I just..."

He didn't let me finish, which was probably a good thing. "What could possibly... why would you do this?"

"Mr. Hummel," Blaine said very politely. "There was an accident in Finn's room. Some cleaning chemicals got mixed, and it got pretty nasty in there."

Burt looked skeptical. "I'm waiting to find out why my gutters are in Carole's vegetable garden."

Blaine took a deep breath. "Well, we needed to get the window open and no one wanted to go in there, so we thought if we broke the glass the room could vent." I have to give him props for saying 'we'.

I didn't know what to add to that, and I was way past embarrassed. My reputation with Burt was crashing down just like the gutter, except that's not something you can fix in a few hours. "I was going to fix it," I said finally. "I… I was going to get the glass and everything and fix it."

"And you thought this was a better plan than waiting for me to get home and help you?"

"I dunno… I mean, you were so pissed about the mess this morning, and I didn't want to screw up something as simple as cleaning my room. It's like… I don't know… I just didn't want you to think I wasn't mature enough to do something so... simple."

"We'll you've done a damn good job, haven't you? How the hell did this happen anyway? Are you really dumb enough to mix chemicals?"

I wasn't sure how to answer that one either. I hadn't actually mixed anything on purpose. But I did sort of kick over a dozen empty bottles and walk out. I'm not sure if uncontrollable rage or stupidity would have been worse in this case. Best to stick with the truth. "I think I-I'm pretty sure I kicked over some open bottles just before I went downstairs. When I got back up there it was pretty bad."

"Pretty bad? No, Finn, the puke on the floor was pretty bad. _**You could have killed yourself!"**_

The way he said that made me shiver. I opened my mouth but nothing came out.

Burt's words hung in the air for a few seconds, then Blaine picked up the ball. "So, Finn was having trouble seeing."

"His eyes look like bright mica punch drapes," Kurt added. "You can't really tell in the dark."

Blaine continued to explain. "So when he tried-you know, they _do _look like mica punch- when he tried to break the window, he took out the gutter by accident."

"Finn. I just can't believe... this is just.."

He was about to say something else, but took a deep breath instead. Blaine told me later I had about the most depressed look he'd ever seen, so Burt probably knew how hard I was taking it. Making him proud is important to me, I don't like fucking up. Not when it's something I should be able to do, something so simple. I mean, when you aim high and don't quite make it, it sucks, but when you are aiming low and still miss it's like a kick in the nads.

I could tell Burt was clenching his jaw real hard. Finally, he turned to Kurt. "You know I keep you around so he doesn't do this shit." I guess on the list of things he could say that _was_ pretty nice. Kurt and Blaine laughed a bit, but I wasn't in the mood.

"I'll do, whatever.. you know, whatever it takes. I'll make this up to you. I promise." So I pretty much was making the exact same promise to do better I was a few hours ago, except now I'd gassed my room and knocked a gutter off the house.

"I can tell you the 'whatever it takes' is going to be pretty big for this one. But for now get inside and have your Mom take a look at your eyes."

My eyes were feeling better, but apparently they still didn't look great and my Mom was concerned-not like freaking out panicky concerned, but I could tell she was worried. Burt followed me in and explained what had happened while I just lay on the couch wondering what they were going to do-take away the car, no TV, no cell phone-and then it clicked. With all that was going on I'd never called Rachel. Burt wrapped up his summary of my latest antiques, and I asked my Mom if I could borrow her cell to make a call.

She nodded, then said, "But first, come upstairs with me, I have some eye drops in my medicine cabinet." I followed her to her and Burt's room, where she put her arms around me and squeezed harder than I thought someone that old could. "Finn, I worry about you. You need to be smarter sometimes."

I didn't know if that was supposed to be funny or mean, but I didn't like it much. "You aren't the first person who's told me this," I said, sounding pretty annoyed, "but I thought _you'd_ be nicer about it."

"FInn, I... I'm sorry, honey, that didn't come out the way I wanted it too. What I mean is.. I was just so worried. I-" She paused for a second, trying not to cry. "I know how hard it was for you not having your father. I know how much he meant-how much he means to you, and how proud you are of him. But you didn't know him, and he barely knew you. I knew Christopher for years, so when he-he was killed, it wasn't just emptiness. It was this horrible, gaping wound left where someone tore a piece out of my soul. It is bad enough not to have a someone so important in your life, but it is even harder having someone taken away."

She gave up trying not to cry at this point. I was probably a little teary too, but that was more from having mustard gas or whatever in my eyes. I didn't really get it though; hadn't I been through enough for one day? Did we really need to bring up one of the few things that I'm really sensitive about right then?

"It is a pain like no other, and the thought that I could feel that way again..." She took a deep breath. "Something like this, even though it turned out not to be serious, it reminds me of what could happen. I don't know for sure how dangerous it was, or if there was a chance of me-of us-loosing you. I really don't. But it reminds me of how just how easily bad things can happen, and how quickly and unexpectedly catastrophe comes. I don't think I could deal with that again. With losing any of you. And I don't know if Burt or Kurt could either. This is a family that has had more than its share of loss, and we are stronger for it. But I know I'm not strong enough to lose my son, and I never will be."

At this point my tears were definitely not from the chemicals anymore. At least not _just_ from the chemicals. I squeezed her tightly "I'm sorry mom. I don't know... I didn't mean for this to happen, I didn't even think about it. I..."

"It's alright, Finn. It's alright. I know you'd never do something so risky on purpose. I just need you to try harder not to do something by accident. Every time you go out the door by yourself I know there is risk, and that is hard itself for a parent to live with. But something like this, it just..."

"I get it Mom. I do. I really will try, I promise I'll try. I want to be careful, I never want to put you through that. But I'm still me. And I try to be a better me every day, but... it's still me."

"You're a great you," she said, "And I love you unconditionally. That is why I worry so much. I don't want you to be anything other than who you are, I just want you to be happy, healthy and safe while being you."

I hugged her again, bending over and putting my head on her shoulder. We stood together like that for a long time. I'd disappointed Burt, I'd damaged the house, I'd even terrified my mother. But for the moment that didn't matter. She said she loved me. And she meant it. And that was enough.

**Thank you for reading-your reviews are greatly appreciated! **


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N-After more rewrites and changes than I can count, the story finally continues-sorry for the delay! As always, thank you to my invaluable beta reader wood-u-like-2-no and all of you have taken the time to read, comment, and/or favorite!**

It was probably the most awkward car ride of my life. Well, one of them. I've actually had some pretty bad car related stuff go down. Anyway, Burt wasn't all that happy about going out to the garage for the gas mask thing or whatever it was he used for painting. He made me go along, and didn't really say anything the whole time. I thought about asking him if I could borrow his cell to call Rachel, but I kind of was waiting for him to talk first. I knew he was pissed, but I didn't really know what was going on in his head. I'd made a big mess, and he had every right to be mad and call me on it, but the silence felt really cold. He said "Wait here," when we got to the shop, the first thing he'd said since we left the house.

The ride home was about the same. A minute or so before we pulled into the driveway I looked over at him. "I'm sorry I let you down. I... I don't know... but I really want to make it up to you."

He stayed quiet for several seconds. I was starting to think talking was a bad idea when he said, "The best thing you can do is pick yourself up and keep on going. That's about all you can do in this world."

That surprised me. "Really?"

"That's not to say you're off the hook for any of this. Or that I'm not mad. But I know you Finn, and I'm proud of you no matter what. Not for this. Not for lots of other things. But for being a good man, and a good brother to Kurt." He parked his truck and turned off the engine and looked at me. "And no matter how angry I get, how much I yell, whatever I do-you need to know that."

Before I had a chance to say anything else, he was out of the truck and heading into the house. I sat there, thinking about what he said. I guess I'd known it deep down; no matter what I tore off the side of the house I was still family. But still it felt good to hear it. In fact, I could feel a couple tears. I waited a minute-I wasn't going in the house crying-then wiped my face with my sleeve and went inside.

Burt had already gone in and opened my window, but it was sort of obvious I wasn't going to be able to sleep in there. My mom got out some spare blankets and we made up the couch. I guess it would have sucked with our old couch, but like I said this one is way comfortable so I was cool with it. I've actually tried to sleep on it before when the AC isn't working right in my room, but last time people kept waking me up and it ended up being a big argument. I really don't think asking everyone to be quiet downstairs once in a while is that big of a deal.

Burt said goodnight and headed up to bed, with my Mom following a couple minutes later when whatever chick flick she was watching ended. I was alone and exhausted. At this point every time I closed my eyes I felt like I was going to slip into unconsciousness, but there was one more problem to solve.

I headed upstairs to find Kurt and borrow his phone. I tried real hard not to blink on the stairs because I thought I might fall asleep and trip or something. Kurt is normally pretty strict about his sleep schedule, so I was surprised to find him drinking coffee. I was sure whatever they were up to it was Blaine's idea; he's more like me and will down an energy drink and power through when he has to.

"Hey Kurt. Glad you're still up. You're normally so gung-ho about sleep." It definitely made it more likely that he'd let me borrow his phone if I didn't have to wake him up to ask.

"My body is a temple, but like any well kept sanctuary it can withstand the occasional deviation from established routines."

I looked at him for a few seconds. "Can I borrow your cell phone? I need to text Rach and mine's still in her car."

"I believe that can be arranged," Kurt said, "but it may involve a little quid pro quo."

"You... You want to give me a back massage?" I asked hesitatingly. Blaine burst out laughing.

"I think you may have inhaled more chlorine than we thought," Kurt said.

"I'm not the one who said it!"

"I said we need to arrange a little quid pro quo." He figured out what the misunderstanding was. "Quid pro quo; it's Latin for this for that."

Blaine tried to clear it up a bit more. "Yeah, it's sort of 'if you scratch my back I'll scratch yours' kind of thing."

"But that's-isn't that pretty close to what I said?"

"He means that metaphorically Finn. As in if one person does a favor, like I let you borrow my phone, you owe me a favor."

"Really? I just always thought it was Latin for back massage."

Blaine cracked up again. "Where-where did you hear that?"

"Mr. Ryerson. He'd always give guys a back massage or something like that when he bought alcohol for them. Said it was 'quid pro quo'."

"That is really messed up," Blaine said.

"It actually felt kind of good."

"Though I'm pleasantly surprised you appreciate the work of a masseuse, I do hope you realize he was feeling you up."

That made me feel a little bit sick. Mr. Ryerson ever came onto me or anything, but he did seem a little bit too interested in me. It's not like I was doing anything artsy back then. Actually, the first time I ever talked to him was when we got called to Principal Figgins office for that Vaseline thing... "I, uh, never really thought about it."

"Not to worry, if you enjoy massages I know just what we're all going to do." Kurt looked at Blaine, and then they both said together, "Spa Day!"

"Um, I don't know guys. I mean, going to the spa with you, it might be hard to live down."

"Because we're gay?" Kurt said, a little annoyed.

"I was thinking more because I'm a dude and it's a spa, but yeah that too. Plus I don't really want to put cucumbers in my eyes."

Kurt frowned at me. "Sometimes I can't help but be bothered by your latent homophobic tendencies. I know it's been hard for you, but by now-"

"What do you mean 'by now'?" I interrupted. It was really unfair to say I'd done anything but 100% support him, at least since I got to know him. "You know I'm always right behind you."

Both Kurt and Blaine burst out laughing. It probably wasn't the best way to say that, but I was _really_ like half asleep. At least Kurt was satisfied.

"Easy there big guy, he's mine," Blaine said as the laughing died off.

As tired as I was I knew I was going to keep saying stupid things, so I figured it was time to move stuff along. "So, what do I need to do to borrow your phone?"

"Maybe you can cut him a break," Blaine said, "you already have him camping out with you next weekend for our Art Gala tickets."

"I'm doing what?"

"We are camping out Saturday," Kurt said, "to get student tickets to the Toledo Art Gala dinner. We discussed it Saturday night." That did sound familiar, though I couldn't really remember all the details. "We can go to the tape if you don't believe me."

"No, uh, I sorta remember."

Blaine smiled. "Yeah, I can see it being a bit hazy for ya. Thanks, by the way."

"Yeah-uh, thanks for what?"

"Kurt didn't tell you _why_ you're going?"

"Why I'm going? I thought he wanted company?"

"That's true," Kurt said, "but I also need you there to get Blaine's ticket. They'll only give out one ticket per person."

"My second cousin is getting married in LA this weekend, and the family is flying out Friday night. I'd go myself but who am I to turn down wearing a white tux at a beach wedding? I told Kurt you'd make an exceptional proxy."

"A what?"

"Stand-in. I mean, you guys get along great and I need someone I can trust there to make sure somebody doesn't get too flirtatious."

"You want me to go get you a ticket and keep Kurt from hitting on other dudes?" I asked. This was sounding like a pretty raw deal.

"I'm more worried about them hitting on him, but yes."

"How the fuck am I supposed to do that?"

Blaine smiled. "My thought would be no one is going to tangle with Kurt's six foot boyfriend."

Both Kurt and I gave him a cold stare. "Yeah… no," I said.

"I can understand if that charade would be a bit uncomfortable. I'm sure you guys will think of something better. Plus, it is good for Kurt to have someone around who's a bit more familiar with the actual camping."

"Exactly. It's not like we're going to be in the middle of nowhere, but I'm not what you'd call the rugged woodland type." Kurt motioned towards his closet. "I do have a few items from the L.L. Bean catalog in my wardrobe."

"Yeah, I mean, I don't camp often but it's cool. Unless it's really buggy."

"I remember Puck telling me you're great at pitching a tent."

Seriously Kurt? "Remind me to kill Puck tomorrow, ok?"

"Why? He just mentioned it to me a few months ago. I can't wait to see it. I'll need to let him know if he was right," Kurt continued. My eyes were pretty wide at this point.

"That might not be a good idea," Blaine said. He leaned over and whispered something in his Kurt's ear.

"Of course I know what it means," Kurt said, annoyed Blaine didn't realize he was joking around. "Why'd you have to ruin it?"

"Well, Kurt, you have been a bit, uh, sheltered at times. I just wanted to make sure you didn't say something you'd regret."

"I'm an openly gay kid at a public high school. I know every word, phrase, riddle, and saying that describes an erection. I'm just classy enough not to use them."

I frowned at that. "But you just—" Something more important popped into my mind. "Wait, what if I wanted to go to this thing? I mean, you said it's a dinner, so it has like free food and stuff?"

Kurt raised an eyebrow. "I don't think the faire would be quite your style."

"There's a fair?" I asked. "I thought you said gala?"

"Faire as in the type of food." Apparently that e on the end makes a big difference. You would think they'd teach us this stuff in school. "We aren't talking burgers and fries, this will be much more refined."

"Like steak?"

"You're mastery of fine dining never ceases to amaze me. If you must know, in order to ensure the food appeals to a broad demographic this is a strictly vegetarian menu."

"Refined vegetarian food? Isn't that kind of an oxymoron?"

Kurt frowned. "I see you didn't sleep through English class this week. The point is I don't think you'd enjoy it, and even if I did, I know you're not seriously going to try and take a ticket that I've already promised to Blaine?"

He was right. I wasn't about to try and get involved in this thing. Free food was very tempting, but I could see how much it meant to Kurt. Plus, listening to a bunch of rich geezers pretend they cared about art didn't sound like the greatest anyway. "Fine… he can go. On the condition I can borrow your phone."

Kurt nodded. "Deal."

I snatched the phone out of his hand and headed downstairs. It is amazing how the time just flew by. I started wondering if she'd tried to call me and what she was thinking when I didn't answer. Maybe she'd found my phone in her car. Maybe she assumed I was just being mean. Maybe she was crying like my Mom thinking I wasn't answering because I was in a car accident or eaten by an alligator or something. I really wanted to call, but it was already past 11 and she was probably asleep. The last thing I needed to do was wake her up.

**SRY… left phone in ur car. My bad. Sorry I dint tell you sooner. Things way crazy here. Luv U. Cya tmrw!**

Remembering that this was Kurt's phone, I quickly followed up with another message to make sure it wasn't weird.

**This is Finn. Luv U. Sry.**

As tired as I was, I couldn't sleep. I just sat on the couch staring at the phone. I don't know what I was expecting, it wasn't like I even thought she'd be awake, but somehow I thought a message—any message—would make me feel better. I kind of comes down to the fact Rachel isn't exactly what you'd call quiet, she pretty much lets you know where she stands. So when she stops talking to you it's a pretty bad.

I was still in a phone-trance when Kurt and Blaine came downstairs. I didn't really notice them until Kurt asked, "Were you planning on returning that anytime?"

"Oh, sorry, I guess I just thought she might send something back."

"It's been over half an hour," Kurt said. "For better or worse, I doubt you'll be getting anything from Rachel until the morning."

"Yeah, I know. I just kind of wanted something to go right, you know?"

"Rachel isn't happy?" Blaine asked.

"Not really." How'd he know anyway? "Did Kurt tell you?"

"No, he didn't. But when you've been sitting here for half an hour starring at a cell phone, it's pretty obvious something is up. Plus, guessing Rachel is upset about something isn't exactly going out on a limb."

I yawned. "I guess, yeah-that makes sense. I thought you were psychotic there for a second."

"Psychic," Kurt said. It was his turn to yawn. They are more contagious than mono...

"I might be psychotic," Blaine said with a smile. "After all, they say you can judge a man by the company he keeps."

"You have a company?" Kurt just rolled his eyes at that one, and I don't really blame him. Even though I was way tired I should have known it-Mr. Schue used that one last week.

"Company as in people. Friends." Blaine grabbed both of us by the shoulders. "You two nuts."

Kurt did something funny with his eyebrow. "Actually, between us, we have four. I think."

Both Blaine and me frowned. "Really Kurt? You had to go there," Blaine said.

"My razor-sharp wit always goes underappreciated."

"No, I just don't like you talking about my balls," I said.

After a couple awkward seconds Blaine asked, "So what has Rachel all P-O'd this time?"

"Speaking of people with balls..." Kurt added.

"Careful dude, that's my girlfriend you're talking about. You do not want to cross that line."

He put out his hands. "You're right of course, that was gratuitous, unwarranted, and petulant."

"That's an apology, right?"

Kurt rolled his eyes again. Maybe it's just me but rolling your eyes when you're apologizing sort of takes away from the whole apologizing part. "Yes, Finn, it means I was immature and rude."

"I'd agree with that."

"But in my defense, I'm quite fatigued."

"Maybe you should go whip up some more cappuccinos or a few espressos," Blaine told Kurt. "I think we're going to be at this a while longer. And try to be a little nicer."

"I find tough love is always a good option in these situations," Kurt said.

"I think he really needs a gentler approach right now."

"What are you guys talking about?" I asked.

"It doesn't take a psychotic to see that you're depressed," Blaine said.

"It's been tough but I'm fine," I said. I was pretty torn up, but it wasn't like I was so depressed I was going to go jump off the roof without a parachute or something.

Kurt took a long, deep breath. "No, you're not. Blaine's right. I know you. You _are_ upset."

I really don't know what happened next. I knew I was upset and in a bad mood, but something about being _told_ that I was just pissed me off. "Of course I'm fucking upset!" I yelled at Kurt loud enough that he jumped. "In the past two days I've been paraded around in dining clothes singing the gay national anthem or whatever the hell you call it, I've got Rachel thinking I'm a total scatterbrain, I almost killed us today because apparently I'm too stupid to clean my room, and then I tore ten feet of gutter off the side of the house!" When I was done yelling I was surprised by how hard I was breathing. It felt like I'd just run a mile.

Kurt looked at me, and suddenly I felt even worse. Here he was trying to be nice and for whatever reason I'd just blown up on him. It was totally uncool and unfair. "Feel any better?" he asked after a few seconds.

"I uh..." It had felt good for a second-how messed up was that-but now I just felt cold. Like I'd swallowed an ice cube whole or something. "I... I'm sorry. I-"

"It's ok. I know you weren't yelling _at _me," Kurt said. "You were just venting. It's healthy and normal. And last night wasn't that bad." He was right about that, I sort of had fun. I mean, it was one of the most embarrassing performances of my life but if it weren't for the fact I was sure that video was going to turn up somewhere, it wouldn't really have bugged me anymore. I guess it's kind of like Lady Gaga—first time I around I was totally against it, but a year later I was pretty cool with doing it. It's not like Gaga is my first choice, but if you try something totally outside your comfort zone it's not always as bad as you thought it would be.

"So, what exactly got Rachel going?" Blaine asked.

"I guess she thinks I'm irresponsible or something."

"And this is news to her?" Kurt asked. "I seem to remember how your mom wouldn't trust out to take care of fish."

I hate it when mom talks about stuff like that at dinner. Like why bring it up at all? "That's different, and I haven't asked recently anyway so it doesn't matter."

"What I think Kurt is trying to say," Blaine said very soothingly, "is that Rachel knows you aren't perfect, and she accepts that." I don't think that was exactly what Kurt was trying to say, but after my outburst I felt like I should cut him some slack. "So what exactly _did_ get her upset?"

"Well, I kind of flaked on our date today. Had to, you know, clean and stuff instead of lunch. It's not like I _planned_ it that way. And then I was supposed to call her this afternoon but I left my phone in her car and now she won't be happy about that either."

Blaine looked over at Kurt. "So it is at least a little our fault." If this was news to Blaine I guess Kurt really hadn't told him much about what had gone on today.

"I never said we were above reproach," Kurt said

"I guess we have some serious work to do." Blaine turned to Kurt. "Go whip up some more cappuccinos. Finn sure looks like he could use one."

"Actually what I really need is sleep. I haven't-"

"No, you really need a plan. You can't go walking into school with your pants down and expect Rachel to come fluttering back to you like a golden sun moth."

I yawned again. "That pants thing was a dare freshman year. I don't see why-"

"It was a metaphor." Kurt looked at Blaine. "It's amazing, I think he's more lucid after a night of drinking than when he's tired."

"I'm not lucid," I said quickly before I realized that wasn't a bad thing.

Blaine snorted, and pointed at Kurt. "Coffee, now!"

Kurt shrugged. "Whatever you say boss," he said sarcastically. He went into the kitchen, and a few seconds later I heard the weird noises his fancy coffee machine thing makes.

"So, what are our options?"

"You're the one who said I needed a plan."

Kurt walked back in. "Triple shot espressos in three minutes. What did I miss?"

"You've been gone thirty seconds," I said.

"Good gossip is like a delicate sonnet-you take out even a single couplet and the whole thing can fall apart."

"This is my girlfriend we're talking about, not gossip or some-that's a poem, right?"

"Yes, and the First Folio is a bunch of scripts."

Luckily Blaine interrupted before Kurt could say anything more about poetry or the portfolio thing. "It's only part of what you'd need to do, but have you considered jewelry?"

"Rachel doesn't accessorize much, but the right piece would certainly mean something to her," Kurt added.

"I've got like two hundred bucks in my bank account and part of that is going to fix the gutter."

"Jewelry doesn't have to be something expensive. It's the thought that counts."

"That kind of backfired when I got her that bracelet that said 'You're neurotic and compulsive: I like that in a person.' She didn't get the joke."

"I'm surprised you got the joke," Kurt said.

"Dinner?" Blaine suggested.

Dinner with Rachel was a double edged coin. On one hand it was a not super expensive way to spend some time together and talk to her. But when she's already angry the whole talking part doesn't always go super smooth. "I dunno. I mean, I took her out to Panda Buffet when I broke her cell phone and she ended up telling me I'm insatiable and leaving."

"Insufferable," Kurt said. "Actually, it could be either. How many times did you go back?"

"So dinner is out," Blaine said. "Too risky. So what does Rachel do when you're upset with her?"

"It sort of depends. It's not like it happens all that often, I'm pretty cool about talking stuff out. And I guess she just knows how to get me to go along with stuff." I think they both knew what I meant by that.

"But Rachel is a bit more... demanding," Kurt said. "And I think you need to consider the real problem here. Proving your responsible is not something you can do by taking someone to a movie." I hadn't thought about a movie. She'd probably want to see some boring chick-flick.

"Call me a romantic, but I think what you need to do is express your love and caring. Kurt's right-you can't fix every quirk about yourself overnight. It's not so much about showing that you're responsible, it's about showing that you care enough to try and do better for her."

"But she knows that already," I said.

"Just because she _knows_ doesn't mean you don't need to say it," Blaine answered.

"We are cups, constantly and quietly being filled. The trick is knowing how to tip ourselves over and let the beautiful stuff out," Kurt said. "Ray Bradbury."

Blaine could tell I had no clue what the hell Kurt had just said. "How about 'It's not automatically a certain guarantee. To insure yourself you've got to provide communication constantly.'"

"I've heard that one..."

"Billy Joel," Blaine said. That made sense-Burt had given me one of his albums and I'd been listening to it shortly before I poisoned my room. I've never heard any songs by that Bradbury guy.

"So let's assume you're right," Kurt said. "Treating the symptoms is good enough, we can let the disease fester." That sounded really gross. "So dinner is out, you're either to tasteless or too poor to get her jewelry."

"You do have certain talents that she admires," Blaine said quietly.

I could feel my face turn red. "I didn't think she talked about that stuff with other guys."

"He's not talking about _that_," Kurt said, "She likes your performing."

Yes she does. "Well, yeah, but I don't think it's that simple. I can't just go sing a song to her about love and hope and niceness and make her happy." Like my mom says there's only so many times you can fall in the well, or something like that.

"You're right," Blaine said. "That's why I didn't bring it up. Singing her a song in Glee rehearsal is the kind of thing that makes her smile when she's had a rough day. You need something bigger, and more personal. Something... original."

As tired as I was, I could see where he was going with this. "You think I should write a song?" I asked very slowly.

"It would be a remarkable surprise. And nothing shows you care like pouring your soul into your own artistic creation for the person you love."

"You're really serious?"

"Very really."

Kurt glanced at the kitchen. "I'm going to go finish up the espressos. But I should point out that caffeine keeps you awake, it doesn't slow down time."

"Have some faith," Blaine said as Kurt walked into the kitchen.

"He's right," I said. "I can't pull a good song out of my ass in a couple hours. It would be hard enough if I wasn't so tired I was seeing colors."

"You're supposed to see colors."

"You see? I'm so tired I can't even explain how tired I am."

Blaine thought for a second. "What if we take a shortcut? Use an existing song but change the words around."

"Like Weird Al?"

"Sort of, but not so dramatic. We want to find a song that has the right meaning, and just tweak it. Make it about things that are special for you and her."

"Like what?"

"Remind her of special moments, memories, things you love about each other. Like, where was your first kiss?"

I smiled. "Sophomore year. She was helping me with my vocals and set up this crazy picnic thing on the stage."

"Not exactly subtle."

I smiled a bit. "Since when have our kisses been subtle?"

"Point made. Still, it seems kind of forward."

"I guess. But it was the first time we really connected. I guess I sort of knew right there we were meant for each other. Sometimes I kinda wonder what life would have been like if we'd just gotten together then. You know, call it off with Quinn and do what was in my heart. So much less drama to get to the same place, so much more time with the person I want to be with, so-"

"Everything is clearer when you look back. You did think you had a baby on the way."

"Actually I didn't know about that yet. But even then, I was stupid enough to dump Rachel and get back with Quinn a second time."

Blaine shrugged. "You got me there. So what else? "

I smiled again. "We went up to Lake Erie for a couple days over Thanksgiving break. Rented a room on this little island."

"Isn't Lake Erie a little cold in November?"

"Yeah. But you get a discount if you go after swimming season and before ice fishing season. Only way I could afford it." The downside was no Rachel in a bathing suit.

"But there's nothing to do."

"The important thing was being together. You know what the best part was? We took out a canoe, and it's like 40 degrees with the wind blowing. So Rachel wraps my coat around her and just latches onto me to stay warm, and she just held me like that until we got back to the dock. So we're floating there, just the two of us off the coast of Kelly's Island, warm in each other's arms."

"Off the coast... hold on a second." Blaine grabbed out his cell phone.

"What is it?"

Blaine didn't look up from his phone. "There was a guy I used to study with sophomore year at Dalton. He was a big Jimmy Buffet fan-he played it all the time. I could swear that was one of the songs."

"He's the dude that fell off the stage, right?"

Blaine nodded.

"And he has a song called 'Off the Coast'"

Blaine smiled. "Not exactly. But close." He handed me his phone and I started reading the lyrics. I had no idea what it actually sounded like, but the words were perfect. Just like Blaine said, a little tweaking and it would probably explain how I felt better than anything I could write myself.

"You think she'd like it? I don't know if his stuff is her type of music."

Blaine was already copying down the lyrics on a piece of paper. "This isn't some Caribbean party music thing, it is a serious ballad. You do this right, she'll love it."

Kurt walked back in with three surprisingly big drinks. "What did I miss?"

"Finn agrees with you there isn't enough time to start from scratch, so he's going to rewrite a Jimmy Buffet song instead."

Kurt stopped in mid-sip. "A Jimmy Buffet song? For _Rachel_?"

"It's not as bad as it sounds," I said, taking a sip of my espresso. It was way too bitter for me, but I was willing to do what it took to make Rachel happy. If that meant drinking bitter coffee to say up all night and write a song, then I was down for it. I looked at Blaine. "So, uh, where do we start?"

"Well, the whole reason I thought of this song was the chorus." He pointed at the page. "You'll want to change that to 'Kelly's Island'."

"OK." I crossed out half a dozen words and wrote in the changes. "I think it might be easier to start on the second verse. The first one doesn't have much to it."

"Don't worry too much about the first. Just make 'Rudy' 'Rachel'," Kurt suggested.

I scratched Rudy out and wrote Rachel. "So if I do that, I probably want to make 'chicken' 'spinach'."

Blaine nodded. "Anything else in that first verse? Like you said there isn't much there."

"I could change that to a restaurant we go to," I said.

"I think it's good as is," Blaine said, "You want the changes to be meaningful, don't make changes just because you can."

"Like chicken to spinach?" Kurt said.

I wasn't amused. "Dude. The whole chicken thing wouldn't go over good with her."

Kurt shrugged. I was already looking at the next verse. The first few lines were good. "I am apologizing—maybe something like 'I've made a lot of misteps' or something. I mean, she has too, but I probably shouldn't bring that up, right?"

"Not if you want to have children," Kurt said.

That was a little over the top. "She'd get over it eventually."

"Maybe, but once she goes all Lorena Bobbit on you it's not going to matter."

"I don't know who that is."

"She removed her spouse's equipment," Blaine said.

"She did—oh. OH. Eww."

"But back to the music," Blaine said. "I think that's perfect."

Blaine was pretty serious about this, but Kurt started losing steam after a couple hours. We kept going back and forth over things, making changes to changes that we'd already changed. For the most part I stuck with Blaine's advice: keep it simple and only add something meaningful.

Kurt was cranky, "It's two in the morning guys and we need to be up just after six. At this point it isn't even worth putting on my moisturizer."

"We're almost done," I promised him. "What about the stage thing? We could put it here." I pointed to the end of the second verse. "Phone booth doesn't really do anything for her."

"I like it," Blaine said.

Kurt wasn't as supportive. "You see, this is the problem Finn. You keep us going around in circles. If we make one change, it leads to another, then another."

"What do you mean?"

"You change 'night' to 'stage', and now 'right' needs to be changed down here."

I looked at it quietly for several seconds. "No, I don't think we need to."

Kurt wasn't convinced. Had he been more awake, I think he would have caught on to why I didn't want to change it, but he was tired and pissed that he wasn't going to have time to use a dermal regenerative cream or whatever it is. "It's supposed to rhyme! Sometimes I think if you were any dumber, you'd need be watered twice a week."

I smiled. "It's not about the rhyme."

Blaine smiled too. "Ah! I see what you're doing, and that _is_ way better than any rhyme we could come up with."

Kurt threw up his hands. "Fine," he said. "'Get it right' stays."


	7. Chapter 7

As usual, when I sleep downstairs someone has to go and wake me up. They flipped on a light in the living room, one of those bright fluorescent things that burns right through your eyelids. I just groaned and dug my head deeper into the pillow.

"I'm going to guess this isn't what it looks like," Burt said. I didn't move but I mumbled something about going back to sleep or something like that. The next thing he said seriously woke me up though. "I don't know if I can take you and your brother fighting over the same man."

I rolled over and looked up at Burt. "What the f— I mean, what?" Burt didn't need to answer. By this point I realized Blaine was still asleep at the other end, and could feel his right arm wrapped tightly around my left leg. I pulled my legs back to my half of the couch and sat up.

Blaine yawned. "Morning Kurt."

"Um, check again," I said.

His head snapped around to look at me, but the look of surprise disappeared as quickly as it had come. "Oh, that's right." He glanced down where he had been holding my leg. "Sorry man, I didn't mean to grab you. To be fair though, this is my side of the couch."

"You're side?"

"Yeah… since Kurt had already dozed off in the recliner, we decided to split the couch."

I remembered Kurt falling asleep while Blaine and I were still working on the song, but this whole split couch deal was news. "I don't think—"

Blaine put his hands up. "Alright, _I_ decided. You curled up over there and passed out around 3:30, so there was still room and it was better than the floor. I guess I assumed you wouldn't unfurl your impressive frame in the middle of the night."

"Can you please not talk? Sleeping together is creepy enough." That didn't come out right.

Blaine smiled, but Burt wasn't amused. "You boys were up until 3:30 this morning? On a school night?"

"We were working on a song," I said. "For Rachel."

"I don't care if it was for the Pope. If you guys can't get to sleep at a reasonable time, we are going to need to start talking curfew."

"Why would I write a song for the Pope?"

"Don't get smart with me," he said angrily.

"I'm not."

"You're walking a pretty thin line already. You better not have any notes coming home about sleeping in class."

Sleeping in class normally has more to do with the class being way too boring than me being tired, but I could tell this wasn't the time to bring that up. "You won't."

"I'm going to hold you to that one," he said. He didn't actually say it, but the way he looked at me I could hear 'And it's about time you keep one of those promises.' He glanced at his watch. "Speaking of school, aren't you supposed to be there in about forty minutes?"

Shit. I'd slept in. Compared to Kurt I'm ready in no time in the morning, but still 40 minutes from waking up to the morning bell was cutting it tight. I ran upstairs to grad some clothes and totally forgot what went down yesterday went in my room. I started gagging instantly. Turns out the tear gas or whatever it was was gone, but at this point my puke had been chilling on the carpet for over a day. It smelled _bad_. Everything reeked. I pulled some jeans and a polo out of my dresser and hoped that the smell would go away after I put them on.

Kurt, of course, had been up for over an hour and was finishing up his insanely complicated morning routine when I got to the bathroom.

"Dude, I need to get in the shower. Can't you finish that up somewhere else?"

"It'll only be another five minutes," he said.

"We need to be in the car in five minutes," I said.

He motioned to the shower. "I'm not stopping you..."

"Dude!" Not this BS. "Get out. NOW!" If the little bastard had bothered to wake me up instead of spending the last hour playing with his hair... Reluctantly he packed up a few things and went to his room.

By the time I got downstairs Blaine was already gone. Someone in his family-can't remember who-had a doctor appointment that day and needed someone to drive, so I couldn't really blame him for not saying goodbye. I walked outside to meet Kurt at his SUV-no time for breakfast, brushing, or shaving. The day was off to an awesome start. I shot a quick text off to Puck after I got in asking him where we could meet up between first and second period. I knew I was going to need some help making this song for Rachel come together. Then I turned back to Kurt.

"Why didn't you wake us up this morning?" I asked him as we got on the main road.

"I figured you guys needed the sleep. Plus you and Blaine looked positively adorable."

"Whatever..."

"I'm serious. Normally I'd be upset with anyone who slept with my boyfriend, but this-"

"Dude, sleeping next to does not equal sleeping with," I said.

He shrugged. "That depends on if you are looking at a literal interpretation of the words or focusing on the romantic sentiments normally associated with the term."

"What?"

"It's a question of what you are doing versus what you are feeling."

"I'm feeling hungry."

"That's not the same connotation of feeling I'm referring too."

I rolled my eyes. I knew damn well what he was talking about, and sometimes it gets on my nerves when he just assumes I don't get it. "Maybe I'm just pissed that someone didn't wake me up so I had to skip breakfast."

"You sleep in all the time."

"That's different."

Kurt reached into the back seat and pulled something out of his backpack. "All natural, low-fat dehydrated vegetable bars. It's kind of like a healthy potato chip." Yeah right-anytime someone talks about 'healthy potato chips' or 'vegetable something that's supposed to be meat' or whatever, it's code for 'we ruined it'. "They're infused with vitamin B so it promotes healthy skin. It also has some antioxidants, and good almost your entire daily zinc allotment."

I looked over at him. "Are you saying this shit has _metal_ in it?"

"Don't hate it until you try it." I tried it. Hated it. Apparently the best way to make asparagus taste even worse is to take the water out and put in metal instead.

"It sort of tastes like packing peanuts.

"You've eaten packing peanuts?" Kurt asked.

"Not intentionally."

"Not intention-never mind, I don't want to know. But yes, it is edible."

"Good, cause I'm super hungry and as long as it doesn't kill me…"

"If your system can handle polystyrene than this should be no problem."

"Poly-?"

He rolled his eyes. "Polystyrene."

"Is that what I had at that Thai restaurant last month?" I asked.

"No, but I'm not sure you could tell the difference."

"Why do you always want to go to those strange restaurants anyway?" He actually dragged us all out to some place where they served raw clams last week.

"Because," Kurt said, "some people in this family have dietary needs that go beyond what is available at a typical drive through."

"There are good places to get good food without going to some lame ethnic place. Like the Italian place next to the movie theater." Kurt gave me a funny look and then focused back on the road. Traffic picks up majorly when you get close to the school.

Kurt found a spot pretty close in for how late we were, and I got out and grabbed my backpack, which was really light because most of the stuff I was supposed to bring home with me had spent the weekend in my locker. I did notice some folks looking at me, which isn't all that unusual. When it comes to the kids at McKinely, pretty much everyone knows who I am. Being the winningest QB in the history of the school and all kinda gets you attention. Plus I am captain of a pretty successful Glee club—though that's not always a big positive with everybody. I know I get people pissed off at me when I say it because it comes of like I'm conceded or something, but I pretty much am the school's biggest celebrity. And like any celebrity, I have my adoring fans and I got my problems. Not everyone loves you—lots of folks want to be you, and they are willing to knock you down to take your place. Some people don't even care about what they want to be, they just get off on fucking with the popular people because they can.

The point is I'm used to noticing that I'm being noticed. But that morning was different. As I walked through the parking lot, no one spoke to me but I got the feeling they were talking about me. It kinda reminded me of what it was like when I first joined Glee sophomore year. People kept glancing over at me and laughing. Something was up, and I had a pretty good idea what it was.

Mark Keel was the first guy to work up the nerve to say anything. "Nice video Finnster," he said sarcastically.

I felt a hand on my back and spun around. "So do you try to constantly find new ways to destroy your social standing, or does it just sort of happen?" Sam asked me.

"Dude—this was totally not my idea. It all started when—"

"You can fill me in later man. I need to drop this report off for Ms. Tempe. I was supposed to have it in yesterday, but she said I'm good as long as it's on her desk before the bell this morning. Catch you in class."

"That's pretty cool, especially for Ms. Tempe," I said, but Sam was already walking away.

I made it about twenty feet down the hallway before Azimio caught up with me.

"Hey man, so now you're a dancing queen _and_ a drag queen all rolled into one!"

"Haha—great. How long did it take you to come up with that one?"

"Only about twenty minutes. You make it too easy sometimes. I'll see you at practice, unless you're busy parading around in your underwear sprinkling fairy dust or whatever it is you do with those Glee homos."

As lame as that was, I didn't have good comeback, and as much as I wanted to, rearranging his face wasn't really a good option at the moment. And to be fair though the fairy dust thing was BS he did have me with the underwear, though it's not like that was an everyday thing. So I just shrugged. "Whatever makes you happy man. You know, eventually you're going to get tired of tearing people down."

"Don't go tryin' to make it sound like what I'm doing ain't right, you're the one who ain't right. I'm just trying to get ya to see that." With that, he walked off.

I finally made it to my locker, but before I could actually get it open I heard another familiar voice. "Nice moves, Frankenteen. How come you can't pull that off when we're actually competing?"

I ignored Santana for a few seconds, more because I was half way through entering the combo and wanted to finish than I wanted to piss her off—but pissing her off was a nice side benefit. Once the door was open I turned around to look at her and Brittany. "Apparently it takes a few drinks before I can pull off my really sweet moves."

"So you were tanked when you did that. We can probably work with that."

"Work with that?"

"We get you loaded before Nationals and we'll have no problem knocking Vocal Adrenaline out. You had some moves Gigantor. And it is nice to see you're abs are looking bit less like a pork roast these days." I couldn't tell if she was being sarcastic of if that was actually a compliment, but the cardio had become a way bigger deal ever since Coach Bieste took over last year so I guess it was paying off off the field too.

"We'll I'm glad you enjoyed it," I said quietly.

"I thought it was kinda dumb," Brittany said.

I ignored her and checked my phone. Still no reply from Puck. "You have first period with Puck, right?" I asked Santana.

"Assuming he shows."

"Can you tell him to meet my by the bathrooms outside the library after first period?"

She gave me one of her looks. There are so many of them I kind of forgot which is which. "I guess. Do you want me to tell him why?"

Chances were Santana wouldn't talk to Rachel, but I didn't want to risk spoiling the surprise. "We just have some business to attend to."

"What, are you guys all on the same schedule now?" she said.

I exchanged a confused look with Brittany. "No, if we had the same schedule we'd take care of it in class."

"Nevermind," she said angrily. "I'll talk to Puck."

"Ok, thanks. " I grabbed my Algebra II textbook out of my locker and slammed it shut. "Uh, has everyone seen the video?" I asked quietly.

"Hudson, it went up yesterday. When I saw it this morning you had over 9,000 views." I suddenly felt very cold.

"Look at the bright side," Brittany said, "It could be the same guy watching it 9,000 times." My mind suddenly went back to what Kurt and Blaine had said the night before about Mr. Ryerson.

I just stood there speechless while the two of them wandered off. It wasn't like I was surprised, I knew Puck would do this. Still, it didn't seem real. It's not like I hadn't danced at assemblies and stuff and been mocked about it, but 9,000 views? That's more people than there are at McKinley, even if you include the lunch ladies.

I'm not sure exactly how long it was, but by the time I started walking to Algebra the halls were empty. I took a second to send a quick text to Artie letting him know about the meeting. I walked through the door as the bell was ringing, which wouldn't have been a problem except it was Mr. Foster's class. You see, Mr. Foster is really picky about things—just being in the classroom on time isn't good enough, he expects you to be ready to start work when the bell rings. To make things worse, Mr. Foster likes to pretend like he's a cool, hip, new-style teacher. He is young, even younger than Mr. Schue, and he acts like he's 'one of us' just cause we weren't all in diapers when he graduated high school. But he's still a dick, and no amount of pretending you're awesome can fix that.

"Finn! Good morning. I'm glad you could make it. You know, class just isn't the same without you here—teaching just isn't challenging enough for me with your classmates."

"I'm sorry Mr. Foster, I've just had a tough morning and got a little distracted. It won't happen again." There was no way to sneak to the back of the room at this point, so I reluctantly took spot in the front row.

Mr. Foster glared at me for a second, then looked at his notes. "Homework this weekend was the odd problems in chapter 12. Casey, what did you get for number one?"

"Uh," Casey said, flipping through her binder, "number one was Y equal four X to the fourth minus three X cubed plus two X plus two."

"Very good. Sam? Number three."

"Number three," Sam said, "Um, it's Y equals six X cubed minus three X plus eight."

"That is correct." Suddenly those horrible teacher eyes were on me. "Finn? Number five."

"Number, uh, five," I said. "That one is. I, uh, didn't really get that one all that well."

"Alright, number seven."

"I didn't get that one either."

Mr. Foster smiled a bit. "Did you _try_ to get it."

I could feel myself turning red. It's not like anyone was surprised or cared that I didn't do my HW, but there is something about being called out by the teacher that just screws with my head. And I didn't want to lie… too much. "I uh, looked at it on Friday. I had a bunch of questions but it was after football practice and you were gone so I figured I'd just ask you on Monday—today."

"Ok, shoot."

"I kinda forgot my questions." I heard a few people giggle. Before Mr. F had a chance to try and really humiliate me, the phone next to the door started ringing and he went to answer it.

"How could you screw that up?" the dude sitting next to me whispered. "The answers for the odd problems are in the back of the book."

"Which would have been awesome if I'd had the book," I said.

Mr. Foster hung up the phone and looked at me. "I guess not doing your homework isn't the only thing you're in trouble for today. Principal Figgins wants you in his office."

To be honest, some time with Principal Figgins sounded like a step up from Mr. Foster's math BS. I grabbed my backpack and headed out.

Principal Figgins was behind his desk, with Ms. Sylvester standing next to the door and Mr. Schue sitting in one corner. "Have a seat Mr. Hudson," Principal Figgins said. I did what I was told. "Do you know why you are here?"

I thought about it for a few seconds. "Not really."

"It has come to my attention that you participated in certain illegal activities this past weekend."

I know I didn't hide the surprise to well. I knew the whole dancing queen thing was public knowledge now, but I still didn't know why he cared, or how he found out so fast. "Dude—Principal Figgins, I might have, you know, done some dumb stuff but I'm fine now. It's not like I'm hung over or anything."

"Which is what I've been trying to explain to Ms. Sylvester," Mr. Schue said. "The school wasn't involved. I will agree that counseling would be reasonable."

"William, don't be so naive," Ms. Sylvester said. "Counseling without punishment is like a fifty cal without ammunition—pretty to look at but it won't repel the Indians."

Mr. Schue glanced at her with a confused look then turned back to Principal Figgins. "Things might be different if this was a chronic problem, but Finn is a good kid. This isn't normal for him. We've never enforced any sort of penalty on students unless it directly impacts them in school."

Ms. Sylvester got this evil smile that gave me chills. "Which is fair. But in this case, it _does_ impact him at school. In fact, it impacts the school. As much as it pains me to admit it, your student's position as quarterback and Glee captain makes him a prominent public figure. What he does reflects on this school."

"This isn't anything they haven't heard of before. _Everybody_ knows students drink underage. I'm not condoning it, but treating it like a heinous crime isn't helping anyone's image, least of all the school's."

"Perhaps, but the drinking is only the first step. Have you ever heard of the Billings study?"

Mr. Schue frowned. "I can't say I have."

"It was an analysis of what happens to a high school without proper disciplinary action. Their quarterback got caught with alcohol, but instead of suspending him he got a warning. Three weeks later he opened his first brothel in the locker room."

"You've got to be making that up," Mr. Schue said.

"Perhaps, but that doesn't prove it's not true."

"Enough. Regardless of the facts, Ms. Sylvester raises a valid point. I can't have students representing the school this way to the public," Figgins said.

I opened my mouth to say something, but Mr. Schue was too fast.

"Alright, let's assume for a moment that Sue is right," Mr. Schue said. I could tell he was getting frustrated; he normally doesn't use Ms. Sylvester's first name in front of students. "How does suspending Finn solve anything?"

I felt a sinking feeling like the blood was draining out of my face. "Suspension?" I asked. "Are you serious?"

"Relax Finn, it is only one of several options on the table," Mr. Schue said.

"Anything less than a week's suspension and people are going to think you've gone soft," Ms. Sylvester said to Principal Figgins.

"If this is about the school, how is suspending Finn a good thing?" Mr. Schue repeated. "In case you've forgotten the football team has a regional championship this weekend, and you want to suspend the quarterback? Winning that game means a lot more to the community than some disproportionate and overbearing punishment for a mistake no one even cares about!"

"I'm glad you hold Justice in such high regard you're willing to ignore the law to win a football game."

"Don't be ridiculous." Mr. Schue turned back to Figgins. "All that treating this as a big issue will do is—"

Ms. Sylvester started saying something too, and I lost track of what was going on. Finally Ms. Sylvester yelled, "Stop trying to talk over me when I interrupt you."

"Gentleman, lady, please," Principal Figgins said. "I understand what you are saying William, but the fact is thousands of people have seen this video. I can't just let this slide." So I was as good as suspended because Puck's stupid video went viral. I hoped he'd be fucking happy when we lost the game this weekend.

Mr. Schue's head snapped around to look at Ms. Sylvester. I could tell by the look in his eye he had something in mind. "Exactly how many people is he talking about?"

"As of this morning it was over 9,000."

"How did so many people find out about it so fast?" Mr, Schue asked. "I can understand word going through the student body quickly, _but nine-thousand people?_"

"When the premiere local news channel puts a story on their homepage, people tend to notice."

Mr. Schue's mouth dropped open. "You had someone at WOHN link to the video just to make fun of a student?"

"Don't be absurd William. I'm insulted you think Id' be so petty. The story is entirely legitimate and covers a crucial topic."

Mr. Schue looked at Principal Figgins. "Can you pull up the WOHN homepage?" Figgins did as requested and starred at the screen for several seconds before turning it around so we could see it. Mr. Schue pointed at it. "Right there!"

"Portable toilet stolen from police picnic," I read, "Detectives have nothing to go on." I looked back at Mr. Schue. "What's that got to do with the video?"

"Below that," he said.

"Teacher's focus on self expression encourages illegal behavior." It had a little picture from the video and everything. "That's so unfair, you can't blame Mr. Schue for that!" I yelled.

"Watch your tone, mister," Ms. Sylvester said.

Mr. Schue put his hand on my shoulder. "It's alright Finn. This isn't about me taking the blame for you."

"Sue!" Figgins said. "Are you saying you intentionally published negative propaganda about this school in order to vilify a fellow teacher?"

"Revealing the truth is not vilifying someone," Ms. Sylvester said. "I don't see anyone complaining when they expose predators on Dateline!"

"But those people are abusing children." Principal Figgins was starting to sound frustrated.

"So is he!" she said.

"Mr. Schue has never abused me or anybody I know," I said quickly.

"Like you would even know it if he did," Ms. Sylvester said. Up till this point I'd been more nervous than angry, but that was changing. First of all, I was pretty sure she had just made a crack about my intelligence, and more importantly I wasn't going to sit there and listen to her tear down Mr. Schue.

I stood up and looked down at her. "There's only one person in this room who abuses students and it's not Mr. Schue," I said quietly.

I thought she was already angry, but apparently she could get a lot angrier. "How _DARE_ you." She took a step closer to me and growled. "You should know by now I don't respond well to threats."

"I'm not going—what? What threat?"

Before she had a chance to respond, Mr. Schue pushed his way between us. "We're getting off-track." He looked at me. "I appreciate your loyalty Finn, but there is no excuse for speaking to a teacher like that." He looked at Principal Figgins. "I think I may have a way to resolve this." Figgins nodded. Before continuing, Mr. Schue gave me a pretty big nudge towards my chair—I got the idea and sat back down.

"I'm not sure what you're planning, Schuester, but I've already given a lot of ground to get to suspension."

"For the record," Principal Figgins said, "the district attorney said no more public caning."

"Given the circumstances surrounding the video, I can't see any fair way of reprimanding Finn, other than perhaps some counseling," Mr. Schue said.

"Oh, come on—"

"Let him speak," Principal Figgins said.

"But Ms. Sylvester is right that Finn's insubordination cannot be tolerated, no matter what his reasoning. And for that, he does deserve to be reprimanded."

"But I—"

"No buts Finn. We all need to take responsibility for our actions at some point."

"That seems reasonable," Figgins said. "Alright, Mr. Hudson. Three days morning detention. I'll see you here at 7am."

"This is a kangaroo court and a mockery of justice," Ms. Sylvester said, then left slamming the door behind her so hard I thought it was going to crack the glass. I told Principal Figgins thank you though I don't really know why, morning detention meant getting up way to early. And it wasn't like I'd said anything that bad, or not true. I walked out and headed back to class, but just after leaving the office Mr. Schue caught up with me in the hall.

"I appreciate you standing up for me like that," he said.

"I wish I could say the same thing," I grumbled. He actually looked hurt when I said that.

"I'm sorry about what happened, but you know there are certain rules about the student/teacher relationship, and like it or not, Ms. Sylvester is a teacher at this school."

"But so are you, and she shouldn't be allowed to rip on you like that, in front of a student or like, ever."

"You're probably right. But that doesn't change the fact that she's a teacher and you're a student."

I looked at my feet. "I guess, yeah, but… I just couldn't let her say that stuff about you. It's so not true."

"Finn, the fact that you feel that way, the fact that you're willing to stand up for me—that means the world to me." I guess he really did appreciate it. It meant a lot to me that he did. I knew Mr. Schue liked me for a long time, but there is a big difference between liking someone and caring that they respect you. Mr. Schue's respect means a lot to me, I guess mine meant something to him too. "But there is a time and a place for everything."

"I… understand."

"Oh, we I just got an e-mail this morning. We've been requested to perform at the annual fundraising event for SAASVAMPAC."

"Am I supposed to know what that is?"

Mr. Schue pulled a piece of paper out of his pocket. "The Society for the Advancement of Arts in Schools of Van Wert, Allen, Mercer, Putnam, and Auglaize Counties."

"They couldn't shorten that down a bit?"

Mr. Schue smiled. "What's important is what they want us to do. Two songs, targeted to their big donors. So we are going to need to sit down and come up with some options." He made a strange face, like he was thinking really hard. "You know, I'm sure Ms. Tempe wouldn't mind me taking over detention duty tomorrow morning. I'll pick up some donuts and we can start narrowing this down."

"Really?"

"I think she see's enough of you in class."

"That wasn't what I—oh. Hah."

He laughed. "I know what you mean. I also know you have an extended practice today, but I will be seeing you at rehearsal for at least a few minutes today, right?"

"Count on it."

Mr. Schue smiled again. "Good. I need to get back to class. Actually we both do. There is a limit to how long freshmen will sit around practicing verbs on their own."

"I guess. I already kind of hit my math limit for the day."

Mr. Schue grabbed my shoulder. "Hang in there Finn. I'll see you later."

So I was stuck with three days of detention and had a feeling Ms. Sylvester was still gunning for me, but at least one of those detentions would be with Mr. Schue and better yet I'd managed to get out of half an hour of Mr. Foster's class. By the time I got back, he was too busy explaining something to bitch at me.

I pretended to listen for the rest of class while drawing something that started as a stadium but ended up as a bunch of squiggles that ended up looking like something by one of those artist dudes who weren't good enough to make real pictures but somehow got famous anyway. I wrote down the homework assignment and put a note in my phone to bring home the textbook so I could copy the answers out of the back.

I caught up with Sam just outside the classroom. "Hey man, I need your help with something."

"Restoring your credibility with everyone?" Sam said.

"Just with Rach actually," I said. "Very funny though."

"That might be harder. What do you have planned?"

I motioned down the hall. "We're meetin' Puck and Artie by the cafeteria real quick, but basically I rewrote a song and need some guitars and a keyboard."

Sam shrugged. "If I can be there I will be. As long as it's not an ABBA song."

"Jimmy Buffett actually."

"Interesting choice."

"Blaine actually helped me pick it out."

We got to the cafeteria to find Artie sitting alone outside the bathrooms. "I thought you said Puck too," Sam said.

"He's not coming," Artie said. "Something about he thinks you're setting him up."

"Setting him up?" I asked.

"The video Finn. He thinks you want to beat him up for posting that."

I rolled my eyes. "We so don't have time for this. Where the hell am I going to find another guitarist in" I glanced at my watch to see how much time before the next class started "four minutes."

"What do you need another guitarist for?" Artie asked.

"He's sucking up to Rachel with some rearranged Buffet song," Sam said.

"And the simplest arrangement I could find is two guitars and a keyboard," I said.

"And I'm counting three people," Artie said.

"Yeah, but I figured you'd take keyboard, and Puck and Sam on Guitar while I sing."

"I'm still not seeing the problem," Artie said with a smirk.

"He's saying you double up, guitar and vocals. You _do_ know how to play guitar."

"Yeah. Just like I know how to dance. You don't have any buddies who could help out?" I asked Artie.

"Time to man up," he said.

I groaned. "I don't want this to end up sucking."

"True, you want her to be the one sucking." Artie said with a smile that made me want to smack him. "Blaine can't help?"

"Someone in his fam had some doctor thing going on, I dunno when he'll be back."

Sam brought up a good point. "Kurt's not half-bad on piano, what if you got him to help out? Then Artie can take up the second guitar."

I shrugged. "I wish. It's not a study period for Kurt."

"It isn't a study period for me," Sam said.

I smiled. "Yeah, but you got no problem cutting class to help out a bro in need. My actual bro on the other hand..." I paused for a second. "The point is you tell that prick to get his bitch-ass to the library for third period study hall or he _will_ have something to worry about." If Puck was smart he'd realize I was pretty much giving him a get out of jail free card for the whole Dancing Queen thing, but Puck isn't smart.

"I'll see him this period," Sam said, "I'll let him know."

"Good." I handed out some copies of the arrangement Blaine and I had worked out. I gave Sam a spare. "I figure we keep it simple. I have the lead vocals, you guys provide backup on the chorus here and here," I said while I pointed.

"Seems easy enough," Artie said.

"I hope. It's a little different than what we normally do, but it's not that out there." I looked at the floor. "I guess I'll see if I can talk Kurt into it, but not only is he in class I dunno how cool he'll be about being my second choice."

"He isn't your second choice," Artie said, "You just assumed he didn't want to do it so you went straight to your second choice."

"He might actually go for that," I said.

Sam grabbed my shoulder. "However it all shakes out, we got your back." He smiled a little and added "Dancing Queen."

**As always, thanks to the readers, reviewers, and the great beta-read work of wood-u-like-2-no! Your reviews and comments are greatly appreciated!**


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: First, as always, thank you so to those of you who have taken the time to read, and especially review. I sincerely appreciate the time you take and hope others will consider taking a few moments to add their thoughts. I also need to thank wood-u-like-2-no who's insights and suggestions are invaluable in making this story what I want it to be.**

**For those of you interested in the music for Finn's song, the lyrics are set to "Coast of Carolina" performed by Jimmy Buffett.**

English is kind of a dumb name for a class. It's not like we actually learn English. It's all about reading old crap by dead people. And they obviously never learned English. Like Shakespeare, that dude just makes up words and shit. And somehow we're supposed to know what they hell he's talking about.

The good thing is Ms. Tempe's tests are crazy easy, because it's all 'how does this make you feel' and 'do you agree with' type questions that don't really have a right answer (though there are wrong answers, like 'constipated'). The big assignments aren't too bad, but they take forever, and I don't know why we can't pick our own books. Like I was reading this thing about some dude from Mars that I thought was going to be about rockets and space stuff but it ended up being about religion instead.

Anyway, I spent most of the period trying to figure out if I could actually pull off the backup guitar line and texting Puck about how I needed help. We were talking about a book I hadn't actually read, so it wasn't like I was going to get anything out of paying attention anyway. Finally Puck replied.

**Quit blown up my phone**

Wasn't exactly what I was going for.

**I really need u man. U know, wingman stuff**

It took a few minutes before he replied.

**You really think im that stupid?**

I guess he meant he thought I was setting up a trap so I could make him pay for the video, and he wasn't going to be stupid enough to fall for it.

**I'm not BSing dude. Need help. Pls.**

He replied faster this time.

**Shoulda thought of that b4 u screw with me**

I was getting a little pissed that the dude who had just posted a picture of me dancing drunk and half naked to the gay national anthem was actually complaining about me screwing with him. I made some crack about his epic weakness at the hot dog thing, he got me called into the office and almost had my ass suspended.

**Rly? Me screw with u? Spent morning in Figgins office 4 the vid.**

**U help we call it even.**

This reply was even faster.

**I dun believe that u believe that we are even.**

Normally this would be pretty funny. But I needed him. And he was really starting to piss me off.

**Help me out or I find another way 2 b even.**

He hadn't responded by the end of the period, so I swung by the band room to pull a guitar out of the storage closet then headed off to meet the guys—and Rach—in the library.

I expected to see Sam and Artie waiting outside the library, but since I never asked Kurt to show I was really surprised to see him. "Kurt?" I asked.

"Finn?" he asked in the exact same tone.

"I asked him to help," Artie said. "You seemed pretty put out about the guitar stuff."

I was still confused. "But you have a class this period," I said to Kurt.

"I've heard you play guitar," he said. "And I'd hate to see your relationship end because your band was a man down."

I'm not good, but I'm not _that_ bad. And it isn't like Rachel would break up with me over guitar playing. Not just for guitar playing.

"Is this supposed to be a surprise?" Artie asked.

"Well, she doesn't know about it."

"It's your show," he said, "but I think it might be best if she doesn't see us setting up. Putting everything together in front of her kinda ruins the impact."

"What if we set up in the reference section," Sam suggested. "That is kinda off to one side, hardly anyone ever goes there; then you just need her to get her over there."

I wasn't sure how to get her to the reference section. I'm not really in the library a whole lot, but I do know it's like the most boring spot in the library because they don't let you even take those books home. But it was either that or set up in front of her, and the guys had a point about that not being super romantic and exciting. "I guess I can figure something out. Let's do it."

Setup only took a minute—everything was acoustic and the keyboard had its own built-in speaker that was pretty lame but worked ok. I walked over to the study tables near the windows and saw Rachel. She was sitting with her back to me so I walked over and put my hands gently on her shoulders. Over about two seconds she went from startled to happy to see me to remembering she was angry.

"Cutting class to see me isn't going to help you," she said very quietly. I wasn't sure if it was an 'I'm pissed quietly' or a 'we're in a library' quietly.

"I'm not here to see you. I mean I am, but not just to see you."

"You're meeting someone else?"

"No, I mean I want to do more than just see you."

"FINN!" Her eyes got scary narrow and she slammed her book shut. So much for library quiet. "Sometime I just can't believe you. After this weekend you actually have the gall to cut class and come in here asking to _make out_?" Everyone was looking at us. Even the librarian.

"No, I wouldn't do that... not unless, you know, you wanted to..."

"Not to mention it's just unseemly and not something I'd expect from a gentleman. Now go back to class before you get detention."

"I already—actually, that's not important." So much for an elegant way of getting her to the reference section. "Can you just come with me? I really do have something for you." Reluctantly she dropped a few things in her bag and followed me. She perked up a bit when she saw Sam and Artie with a guitar and Kurt behind the keyboard.

"I'll give you credit for trying," Rachel said.

"Don't be so lackadaisical," Kurt said. "You're about to attend the premiere of a Finn Hudson original." She perked up some more. Rachel has this excited look when she is excited about something but doesn't want to come off as getting too excited. Her mouth hangs open just a little bit, kind of like that catfish in the biology classroom.

"It's, well, not totally original," I said, "but the words are for you. And I mean them." Suddenly I was feeling very nervous. Even with Rachel yelling loud enough that everyone in the library was now watching, it was a pretty small crowd. I guess I was worried she wouldn't like it. Suddenly the idea of taking a song and twisting the lyrics around seemed kind of dumb. Maybe I should of written it from scratch, or maybe just scrapped the whole music thing and done dinner and a movie or figured out some way to get some nice jewelry. But the music was starting, and it was too late to back out now.

The short introduction was over in a few seconds-I took a deep breath and started.

_Little roadside restaurant we artfully complain  
Rachel tells the waitress that her spinach died in vain  
Most every day goes by according to design  
I live this dream but still it seems I have you on my mind_

_From the bottom of my heart  
Off the coast of Kelly's Island  
After one or two false starts  
I believe we found our stride  
And the walls that won't come down  
We can decorate or climb  
Or find some way to get around  
Cause I'm still on your side  
From the bottom of my heart._

Rachel briefly cracked a smile as I finished off the first chorus, but quickly hid it. Still, I knew it was the next two verses that would really matter-but that little smile, even for a second, was a good start, and I started to loosen up a bit.

_I can't see the future  
But I know it's coming fast  
It's not that hard to wind up knee-deep in the past  
I've made a lot of missteps  
Since that picnic on the stage,  
Years and miles and tears and smiles  
I want to get it right._

I could tell Rachel's eyes were getting moist at the mention of the picnic. We'd known each other for such a short time then, but we already knew there was a connection like neither of us had ever felt before. And despite a little personal issue kind of messing with the whole romantic vibe, we both knew it had been a really important moment. And it wasn't just Rach feeling it. As my mind wandered back to those days, I could tell that I was singing with more emotion. I got no clue how we could have known in an instant that we were right for each other, but somehow I knew I was going to be with her. I just was too dumb to listen to myself for a while. I don't know if anyone else could tell, but suddenly I felt a passion in my singing I hadn't since Nationals more than half a year earlier. I could see her lip tremble a bit when I said 'get it right.'

For the second chorus, Sam stepped in and provide some harmony on the vocals while Kurt somehow managed to punch up the keyboard a notch. That little toy-looking thing had more to it than I'd thought.

_From the bottom of my heart  
Off the coast of Kelly's Island  
After quite a few false starts  
I believe we found our stride  
And the walls that won't come down  
We can decorate or climb  
Or find some way to get around  
Cause I'm still on your side  
From the bottom of my heart._

I took a couple of deep breaths as the guys played through the short musical interlude. Rachel still had a hint of a smile but was looking a lot less emotional.

_Each day you're more a star, that much I can say for sure  
Shining bright into my life  
Every day I need you more  
You need to know no matter what  
that I'd have to say or do  
I'd do it all to tell the world that  
I'm in love with you._

_From the bottom of my heart  
Off the coast of Kelly's Island  
After one or two false starts  
I believe we found our stride  
And the walls that won't come down  
We can decorate or climb  
Or find some way to get around  
Cause I'm __**always**__ on your side  
From the bottom of my heart._

Rachel had tears in her eyes again. And I started to realize my eyes were a little watery too. I wasn't crying or anything, but what I'd just said was so true it had made me a little emotional too. I walked over to her and grabbed her hands. "I know a song can't fix everything, but I'm seriously going to keep trying. I'm never going to be perfect, I just can't pull that off. But I can do better, and I promise you I'm always going to try to be better. And I wish I could promise you more, 'cause you deserve more, but that really is the best I can do." And I really did mean it, and I will always mean it.

"If she wanted more she'd probably be dating someone else," Artie said. I was tempted to kick him, but that would kinda ruin the romantic vibe. Plus I'm not sure if he feels that or not. And if I hit him someplace that works, then you get into the whole punching a wheelchair kid thing that doesn't go over to well with Principal Figgins.

"If you were perfect, you never would have written this song," Rachel said softly.

"And that's a good thing, right?" I asked.

She grabbed my shoulders and pushed me down so she could kiss me. The kind of kiss that was worth writing a song for. A few seconds later she pulled away. "A very good thing." She grabbed my hand and stood next to me. "Sometimes I forget that the world isn't perfect. And you are right. What matters is how you deal with it. How you work around the bad and keep on going with the people you love."

"I'm serious though, I'm going to get better."

"You are getting better. You're so much more mature, confident, capable then you were just a few years ago." This was sounding more like one of my Mom's pep talks than Rachel, but whatever. "I'm just so lucky." I got another hug, and this one lasted even longer.

"I'm glad you liked the song." I said.

"Liked it? Finn, it was... perfect. So many memories. "At first I thought it was the most monumentally ridiculous plans ever: a vacation to a beach resort in November?"

"If I could of afforded—"

Rachel put her hands on my chest. "Let me finish. That's what I thought at first. That trip up to the lake-that was a perfect example of how something being less than perfect can be so special."

She was waiting for me to say something, but I really didn't know what. I hadn't really thought of it that way. So I just said the obvious. "It was kind of cold."

"Frigid," she corrected. "But that's what made it so special. Just being there, huddled together for warmth, the two of us removed from the world. It was one of the most intimate moments we've ever had."

So that was where this was going, and it was a good point. "Yeah... at first I was kind of disappointed that we weren't going to be able to go anywhere 'cause you were too cold to paddle but just being out there with you was way better."

"It only takes one person to paddle a canoe," Sam butted in.

"I know, but it's kind of hard when you have your girlfriend wrapped around you," I said, just a little bit pissed he'd interrupted. I turned back to Rachel. "We really need to have another moment like that soon."

She flashed a really big smile. "What are you planning?"

Wait-how did I end up planning something? I just said we should do it again, not that I had all the details figured out and all. Big thing planning is more Rachel's territory. I should have just told her that. But she was so happy, and I can't resist that smile...

"It's, uh, kind of a surprise."

"Just make sure I know what to pack," she said.

"I hate to break up the planning session," Kurt said, "but some of us actually have class this period." He grabbed my shoulder. "And some of us need it more than others."

Rachel let go of my hand. "He's right. You really need to be getting back to class. I'll see you at rehearsal after school." She gave me another quick kiss on the cheek, then started walking back to where she had been sitting. A second later, she turned around, grabbed the back of my neck and gave me another passionate kiss. Not gonna go into details, but I _really_ enjoyed that one. After way less time than I would have liked, she hurried off.

Kurt eyed me funny. "You guys might want to tone it down a notch next time; this is the _library_."

"I'll keep that in mind," I said. I wouldn't. It's not like I'm in the library making out often. Or there at all. Though now that I think about it seems like if I am in the library I normally am making out. Hey, beats reading.

"It has been fun," Kurt said "but I must bid you adieu. I do need to get back to class in time to make it seem plausible I was in the restroom."

I thought about the amount of time he spent each day fussing with his hair, putting on his man makeup, screwing around with moisturizer and whatever else those tubes were. "Somehow I don't think anyone is going to ask questions."

When he was gone, Artie said, "I'm just going to go ahead and assume neither of you guys are going back to class."

Sam shrugged. I smiled a bit. "No, actually I have something more important to do."

"Like?" Sam asked.

I smiled, but much more evilly this time. "Just a little bit of payback."

"Puck?"

"I think it's time for the Puckasaurus to go extinct." I didn't actually want it to sound like I was going to kill him, but when I came up with that line there was no way I wasn't going to use it.

"Sounds like some mafia-style action," Sam said.

Artie rolled his eyes. "He's not going to kill Puck. So, what do you have in mind?"

Nothing. My mind was blank. Well there's always just beating the crap out of him, but it wasn't that creative. Plus things could go really bad if he got the upper hand. I'm pretty sure I got the edge there (I guess he thinks that too), but he's stronger than he looks. But I needed to do something: Puck had humiliated me in front of the entire school, and even worse backed out on me in my time of need. He was going to pay. "I was hoping you guys might have something."

"You know how ironic this is?" Artie asked. I shook my head no. "Three years ago, you and Puck would be sitting around plotting what sort of nasty stunt you were going to pull to humiliate _me_. Now it is us going after him."

"Oh, yeah... I don't really think about that stuff much anymore." I didn't really want them thinking about it either. I'd been trying to put that all behind me, but I guess the whole get back at Puck thing wasn't really helping.

"It's alright," Artie said, "I know you were never really onboard with it. You've always been the best of the bunch even when you were torturing me. Like that time you talked them into chaining my chair to the dumpster instead of putting me in."

I'd forgotten about that. "Yeah, still, that must of sucked."

"It did, but at least people could see me and eventually someone stopped to help."

"That's kinda what I was thinking. I told the guys it would be more humiliating that way since no one would know you were in the dumpster."

He nodded. "Puck on the other hand... payback's a bitch."

I smiled at that. "Well, any ideas?"

"Any embarrassing pics or videos? You know, throw it right back at him?" Artie asked.

"Nothing that's going to surprise anyone."

"Saran wrap the toilet seat?" Sam suggested.

"Nah, would have to do it at his house and no one would see it."

"Laxatives?" Artie asked.

"The things that make you poop?"

"You get him to take enough of them and it brings a whole new meaning to the term 'shit storm'."

"Ok, it's on the short list. What else?"

Sam smiled. "One word," he said, "Icy Hot."

"That's two words." Not often I get to correct grammar. Or spelling. Or whatever word numbering is.

"Whatever. You need to get Icy Hot on his balls."

"How exactly am I supposed to do that?" I asked.

"Put it on his clothes in the locker room or something."

Artie glanced at his watch. "30 minutes left before lunch. That is more than an hour till the next class. Plenty of time to go get the goods."

"If we had a car," I said. "I rode with Kurt today."

Sam smiled a bit. "My dad was off today. I have his car." I'd actually helped Burt do some work on it the year before. Mr. Evans was trying to take care of a family with nothing, and he didn't really have the cash to put gas in the car let alone get any sort of maintenance done. Burt had agreed to do some work for free as long as I helped out. Turns out there was a lot of work, thing hadn't had an oil change in forever and pretty much everything that could be wrong was wrong. We got it back into OK shape though, and now that Mr. Evans had a part time job he was trying to pay us off for it as much as he could. But that's not why we did it. Still, after all that work it still looks like a piece of crap.

Artie and I followed Sam out to the parking lot, and headed out to buy whatever it took to bring Noah Puckerman to his knees. Or at least what it took to basically bring pain to his balls.

XXX

We made it back to school just before the end of lunch, and I managed to get through the afternoon classes without falling asleep. Coach Bieste wasn't happy that I insisted on going to Glee rehearsal, but she wasn't going to say no. I told her I'd be there for less than half an hour; the big game was that weekend and regionals were several weeks away.

I saw Rachel sitting in the choir room and sat down next to her. "Any idea what Mr. Schue has planned for this week? Personally I don't think we should be clouding our focus with superfluous assignments this close to regionals but I doubt Mr. Schuster will agree with my assessment."

"Regionals is still like weeks away Rach," I said. "Plus Mr. Schue has something else we're doing next week. Something about an arts society or whatever."

"Some arts society?" Rachel asked making it obvious she was annoyed I didn't remember any other details.

I shrugged. "It was really long title."

"How come you can have all this sports stuff in your head but the simplest tidbits of information that actually matters just disappear?" Kind of harsh for the guy that made you cry with a custom serenade only a few hours before, but the super-fast mood swings kind of come with dating Rachel. It's kinda frustrating, but having a girlfriend who actually says what's on her mind is probably best in the long run.

"Hey, It was like lots of letters, ok? Does it really matter—Mr. Schue will mention it again anyways."

"In show business, information is key. Knowing what the next big role is before your competition gives you time to prepare. If you actually knew what was going on, I could be working on the perfect song to pitch and all but guaranteeing we have the lead. Waiting for Mr. Schue to tell everyone levels the playing field."

"Isn't that, like, more fair anyway?" It seemed like the way Mr. Schue would want it. Plus, no matter what Rachel comes up with, it's not like Mr. Schue isn't going to give everyone a chance. We'd have a real good shot at getting a duet or something, but not 'cause we came up with something first.

"The point is, you're perennial lack of recall is frustrating."

"What's this have to do with the flowers that keep dying?" Mom's kind of upset about that. But Burt's truck has a real big turning circle, so anything near the driveway is sorta fair game in my opinion. If you don't want them to get run over, don't keep planting them in the same spot.

Rachel rolled her eyes. "I'm saying that if you can't recall the name of an organization we are performing for, I think it's fair to question your memory skills."

"Oh really? Well, do you remember the team we're playing this weekend?"

"The Eagles." OK, score one for Rachel...

"How about the dude I was telling you about?"

"The one you're afraid of?" She asked. "Jake Hausner." Shit... two for two. Since when did she pay attention to that stuff?

"I'm _not_ afraid of him. He's just really good." I leaned over a bit closer. "He's also a total d-bag and I don't want to give him the satisfaction of winning."

"How do you even know that? You said the teams from Marion."

"We do our research. Plus, I ran into him at a football summer camp in middle school. He was a dick then and he's a dick now."

"But at least he can probably remember important details about major events."

I rolled my eyes and groaned. "It was something like sassafras or whatever."

"SAASVAMPAC? We're performing at the SAASVAMPAC fundraiser?"

"That was probably it."

The seats were filling up, pretty much everyone was there. Except Puck, who was still MIA. I didn't think he'd skip out on football practice though, and I had some skin-burning gel in my bag waiting for him. With all the stuff we needed it had come to like fifteen bucks but it would be worth it.

"Alright guys," Mr. Schue said as he walked in. "As you know, regionals are getting close. But first, we had an interesting opportunity come up. New Directions will be one of three glee clubs performing at the annual fundraiser for the Society for the Advancement of Arts in Schools of Van Wert, Allen, Mercer, Putnam, and Auglaize Counties- SAASVAMPAC."

"Mr. Schue," Santana interrupted, "I think we really need to discuss the six foot dark haired elephant in the room." There were a couple of giggles.

"Can it wait a minute?" he asked.

"It could, but every minute we wait our _beloved_ Finn is suffering more and more in a twisting spiral of despair, and I think it is important we show him we understand what he's going through."

Mr. Schue looked skeptical. "What exactly do you have in mind?"

"Brittany and I put together a short number we feel describes exactly what Finn is going through."

Mr. Schue looked at me. "Finn?"

I shrugged. This had trouble written all over it, even on the bottom. But I didn't want to be the dick that said no to a performance. "Whatever."

"All right then, you two have the floor." Mr. Schue sat down in a chair next to Artie.

Santana hooked her iPod into the dock at the front of the room and hit play. It took me about three notes to figure out this was going to be just as bad as I thought. Santana started:

_There's a stranger in my bed,  
There's a pounding in my head  
Glitter all over the room  
Pink flamingos in the pool  
I smell like a minibar  
DJ's passed out in the yard  
Barbie's on the barbeque  
Is this a hickie or a bruise?_

Pictures of last night  
Ended up online  
I'm screwed  
Oh well  
It's a blacked out blur  
But I'm pretty sure it ruled  
Damn

Brit joined in for the chorus. Santana had been nice enough to point right at me when the "ended up online" line came up.__

Last Friday night  
Yeah we danced on tabletops  
And we took too many shots  
Think we kissed but I forgot

Last Friday night  
Yeah we maxed our credit cards  
And got kicked out of the bar  
So we hit the boulevard

Last Friday night  
We went streaking in the park  
Skinny dipping in the dark  
Then had a ménage à trois  
Last Friday night

_Yeah I think we broke the law  
Always say we're gonna stop  
Whoa-oh-oah_

This Friday night  
Do it all again  
This Friday night  
Do it all again

At this point the thing had reached critical mass, and pretty much everyone was fist-pumping and chanting TGIF! I just sat with my arms crossed looking more pissed off than I really wanted to, but Santana was after all trying to get to me. I stared her down but she just smiled, and her and Brittany continued with a reprise of the chorus.

_Last Friday night  
Yeah we danced on table tops  
And we took too many shots  
Think we kissed but I forgot_

Last Friday night  
Yeah we maxed our credit cards  
And got kicked out of the bar  
So we hit the boulevard

Last Friday night  
We went streaking in the park  
Skinny dipping in the dark  
Then had a ménage à trois

Last Friday night  
Yeah I think we broke the law  
Always say we're gonna stop  
Oh-whoa-oh  
This Friday night  
Do it all again 

There was a lot of cheering and applause as Brittany and Santana sat down near Kurt. Rachel, however, was uber pissed. She stormed over to Santana.

"What the hell did he do to you? Or were your bitch credentials just up for renewal?"

"Hey, when someone hands you something like this you don't turn them away. Face it dwarf, Finn brought this all on himself. Maybe if you'd found a boyfriend that wasn't a total moron you wouldn't need to defend him so much."

"Moron? That's really something considering the company _you _keep," Rachel said, looking straight at Brittany.

"You have a company?" Brit asked.

Kurt snorted. "I'm always astounded at how great minds think alike." That was unfair; I was insanely tired when I'd said that.

Mr. Schue had had enough. "Come on guys, it was a performance, you can't let it get you all riled up." He looked at Santana. "It was in poor taste though."

"I dunno, they seemed to like it." She waved her hand towards the rest of the club, and pretty much everybody but Rachel nodded or made a supportive noise.

"That's not the point. We don't sing to hurt other members of our team."

"It's fine, Mr. Schue," I said. I think I hid pretty well that I was still ticked off. "I need to get to practice anyway." I really didn't need to go for another fifteen minutes, but Mr. Schue got the hint.

"OK. You guys on the football team...let me go over next week's performance and then you are free to go." He turned around and wrote a single word on the white board: Demographics. "We talk a lot about style, expression, and the passion that goes into music, but every once in a while we need to sit back and remember music is also a business."

"The music industry is a business," Artie said, "but we aren't really part of the industry."

"Just because we don't get paid doesn't mean we aren't part of an industry. Yes, we sing because we love it, because it lets us express what we can't say any other way, because it brings us together, and lots of other personal reasons. But we are also a competitive team, and that means we sometimes perform for others. The judges and the audiences are our customers."

"And we need to sing what they want to hear," Quinn said.

"Exactly." Mr. Schue turned back to the board. "That's where demographics come in. There's a lot to it, but basically demographics are understanding basic information about the group of people you are targeting. How old are they? Are they male or female? Where do they live? And when you know that, you can start to plan what they want."

"So basically like selling country music in the Midwest," Sam said.

"And classic stuff in the parts of Florida where they keep all the old people." I added.

"Right. Normally we are singing for people who are open minded and appreciate our creativity, passion, and uniqueness. That makes it easy on us. What makes it harder is when the customer is different from what we are used to."

"Are you saying the SAASVA-the art society people don't like creativity and passion?" Sam asked.

"I'm sure they do, but we only have two songs to really wow them. These are successful, experienced businessmen and women, most of them in their late thirties to mid sixties, and we want them to be excited, enjoy the performance, and give generously. They may or may not respond to Lady Gaga and Katy Perry. But there is something they will love." He saw me smiling and pointed at me. "Finn?"

"The music they grew up with."

Mr. Schue smiled. "Exactly." It was an easy answer-what your exposed to sticks with you. Back when I first really got exposed to the stuff, Darren was playing the 70s and 80s and even some 60s stuff. When I hear Journey or REO Speedwagon or any of them it still gets to me in a way a lot of the new stuff doesn't. Like, I'm into the kind of stuff any other high school kid digs... the music of my generation or whatever they call it. But that's not where I started, and if it's like that for me it's really like that for the guys who actually grew up during that time. If only giving Rachel the answers she wanted was that easy.

Mr. Schue continued. "So your assignment this week-find a song that would appeal to this demographic. Music of the sixties, seventies and eighties. Chart toppers. Things they will remember, and in many cases, things they probably still listen to. We'll all decide on the best overall performance and it will be one of the songs, and I'll pick the other. We don't have much time, so be ready to go on Thursday." This was going to be easy.

"Football guys, go get ready to bring home that Regional Championship," Mr. Schue said.

"Not just the Regional," Artie said, "I think Finn's been eyeing that really big one they give out in Cleveland."

"It must be big if it's in Cleveland and Finn can see it from here," Brittany said. She looked at me. "It probably helps that you're so tall."

Mr. Schue smiled and ignored Brittany, looking back at Artie. "Now _that_ is exactly what I wanted to hear."

**A/N: First, as always, reviews are encouraged. Not only do I always enjoy reading them, I've more than once gotten an interesting idea simply by someone suggesting what they like or want to see more of. Feedback really does improve quality.**

**I also want to mention there was a major change sometime between writing the first draft and very shortly thereafter. For that reason, I'm planning to make some updates to chapter one in the near future. I just wanted to let you know in case those of you who subscribe get any notifications about a change without a new chapter appearing.**

_Original version of "Coast of Kelly's Island", "Coast of Carolina", by Jimmy Buffett and Mac McAnally, copyright 2004_

_"__Last Friday Night (__T.G.I.F.__)__" by Katy Perry, Lukasz Gottwald, Max Martin, and Bonnie McKee, copyright 2011_


	9. Great Balls of Fire

**A/N: As always, thanks to those who have read and especially those who take the time to review! My apologies for any bogus notices to subscribers-I've been tweaking bits of the story and haven't found a way to do it that doesn't send out a story alert-I'm only planning one more change so it shouldn't be a big problem! And, as always, thanks to wood-u-like-2-no for his suggestions and comments!**

Artie and I made our way to the shop room. Sneaking in is way easier when nobody is there. I stuck my phone on vibrate just to be safe. It took a few minutes, but I finally found a pair of bolt cutters. Artie grabbed some fancy quick drying super glue stuff, tape, and a couple of really tiny screwdrivers-we had what we needed. We met up with Sam outside the library and the three of us headed to the locker room.

Since the team was already out on the field, we were golden. Still, you never know when someone is going to need to take a leak. Of course if you do you better make sure you time it right. If the Bieste wants you on the field and you're taking piss, bad things happen. Just in case, Sam agreed to stand watch while Artie and I went inside.

Artie pulled a new combination lock out of his bag and handed it to me. It was in that dumb plastic stuff that they use when they think kids are going to try and eat it. I should have gotten a chainsaw or something from shop—that would have been awesome. Though it might have been too loud. Anyway, by the time I got it open Artie was ready to go. I kneeled down next to him and watched.

"You see, the trick is not just to keep the latch from engaging, but also to add in enough friction that it will stay closed without that latch." It was a pretty sick plan. I had no idea what Puck's combo was, so it was obvious we'd need to cut off the lock. But the problem was he'd know something was up if his lock was messed with. So, we needed another lock-but it had to open when he put in _his_ combination. That's where Artie's plan came in: make it so the replacement lock never actually locks.

Artie dabbed some glue in the lock with the tiny screwdriver, then put a little piece of tape inside. After letting it dry for a minute he closed it and pulled on it a bit. "Still too loose," he said. He added a little tape someplace on the inside, I couldn't really see, and tried it again. This time it stayed shut. "Check that."

I grabbed the lock, closed it, put in a random combination, and opened it again. The crazy thing worked. "That's pretty awesome work man."

"You're turn," Artie said. I took the bolt cutters and snapped Puck's lock off. Part of it disappeared across the room when it broke, but I didn't have time to go looking for it. I pulled his clothing out of the locker, and grabbed the Icy Hot out of my bag.

Going through Puck's clothing looking for his underwear is not something I plan on doing again, but at least there weren't any skidmarks or shit like that. I put a nice helping of Icy Hot right down the middle, hoping he wouldn't inspect them too closely before putting them on. Bunching all his clothes back together, I threw them in the locker and Artie closed everything up with the sham lock. I let Sam know we were good to go. We changed and headed out to the field.

"Where the hell have you three been?" Coach Bieste demanded.

"Glee practice," I said. I thought we had this all worked out.

"So why's Puckerman here on time?" she asked.

Because he's a pansy and thinks I'm going to hurt him. I didn't know how well that would go over so I just said, "He must've forgot. Mr. Schue was wondering where he was."

"Alright. Evans, go relieve Madison. Hudson be ready to go in for Kilmer. Abrams, standfast for five, I'll have something for you soon." Sam was already on his way out, and I waited with Artie on the sidelines. I guess the whole not sleeping for most of the weekend was really starting to catch up to me. I sat down on the bench, and the next thing I knew Bieste was yelling at me.

"What the hell is wrong with you Hudson?" she asked.

I shot to my feet and started kicking myself for falling asleep. I knew I hadn't slept much, but how the fuck had I let that happen-falling asleep, in practice, right in front of Bieste?. "I... uh...

"I expected to see you making up for the calisthenics you missed at the start of practice but instead your over here out colder than a smelt on a hockey rink."

"I'm sorry… I just thought—"

"That by skipping part of practice you can avoid working out like the rest of your team?"

"No, I was just didn't get any-"

"You think that little singing club makes you better than everyone else here?" she said angrily.

"No, I wasn't, I—" If she'd only let me finish a damn sentence!

"So you just lack initiative. That's how you intend to lead this team?"

I could feel my temperature go up on that one. I was angry, and I guess I was tired enough that the little filter thing people talk about that's supposed to keep you from saying things in ways you shouldn't wasn't working right. "What do you mean I don't have any initiative?" I said angrily.

"Don't you dare use that tone with me boy. I had about enough of your attitude last week when you changed up my play in the third quarter."

"Yeah, well, it worked, didn't it?" _Keep digging Finn_... I guess whoever said 'Winning isn't everything' must have had someone like Bieste as a coach. We kicked ass in our last game, but the only thing she wanted to talk about was why I'd changed up some play. I saw an opening and I took it. Isn't that some kind of initiative? I get that we have a master plan and everything, but when the plan calls for field goal and I see a guaranteed touchdown, I take the touchdown.

"On the ground now, and give me 150."

I just starred at her for a few seconds. 150 pushups was not a lot, it was insane. I got it was meant as a punishment for talking back and not apologizing or something for the call change up, but still... I can knock out 50 or 60 no problem—maybe more. Had she said 70 or 80, I would have totally just dropped and gone for it. Maybe even 100—It's not like I thought I could pull that off, but at least I could get more than half way.

"You have a problem with that?"

"No I…" I was awake enough now to realize how much trouble I'd gotten myself into, and figured I needed to say something that made my point without sounding like I was questioning the Bieste's instructions. "I don't want to start something I know I can't finish."

"So you're a quitter." She said. That bothered me too—I'm not a quitter—sometimes people even tell me I don't know when to quit.

"No, I just don't-"

Coach Bieste was looking really angry at this point. "I don't have time for this. Get the hell out of my sight and get the hell out of that uniform."

"I'm NOT a quitter!" I said angrily. I dropped.

"Then stop acting like one. I tell you to do something and before you even try you tell me you can't? That the same kind of inspiring leadership you dish out on the field?"

"I wasn't saying I wouldn't try, just that—Come on, you know I'm _not_ a quitter. I do whatever it takes. I play harder than anyone out there."

"Prove it." She took a step closer to me and leaned over. "And if you ever question me like that again you'll be off this team faster than a pill bug riding a firecracker."

The first 30 pushups were easy, after that I was getting sore. By 45 I was hurting, at 60 I was dying, and at 68 I felt my right arm cramp and I couldn't get up again. A minute later Bieste told me to swap out with Dan Kilmer, but I really didn't feel like playing football anymore. My arm was still sore and weak, and I just couldn't pass like I normally do. It's not like I never have any problems on the field, but incomplete passes aren't one of them. At least not ones that are _my _fault. Coach Bieste didn't say anything, either because she knew why I was sucking or she just figured the rest of the team would get on me about it without her help.

"Let me know if you need some pointers," Sam said after I dropped a pass a few yards short of him. "Or someone to pick up the slack."

"Not exactly a confidence builder Hudson," Karofsky said from behind me. I turned around.

"Shove it Karofsky." I turned back to look down the field. I could see Coach Bieste waving for me to pick up the pace. I got the snap, dropped into the pocket, and was on the ground all in about three seconds. My first thought was that hurt like hell, and the second was where the hell did Kelly come from?. I should have seen him. I was sucking.

Towards the end of practice I got some mojo back. At least it was enough to stop the harassment. A 48 yard touchdown pass pretty much shut them up. Still, I was both excited and dreading what was about to happen. There was a lot that could go wrong-the lock could jam, Puck could discover the Icy Hot-I guess that's about it. But the point is stuff could go wrong, and I really wanted to come out of this on top.

I took a fast shower and headed over to my locker, changing quickly so I'd be in place to watch the fireworks. Of course, I had to make it look like I wasn't watching anything. Staring at another dude in the locker room isn't really a good thing for anyone to get caught doing, and in there were still some guys that didn't buy the captain of the glee club was straight. More importantly, it would have given everything away.

The lock worked like Artie promised, and Puck didn't seem to notice it wasn't his. Not suspecting anything, he didn't check out the clothes. As much as I wanted to see his reaction at 'first contact' the whole starring at your naked friend thing didn't really work for me, so when he got ready to drop the towel I focused on tying my shoes. I looked back up to see Puck fully dressed. He'd fallen for it. Any minute now.

I looked over at Artie a few lockers over and smiled, then back to Puck. I think he'd noticed his underwear was damp and was grabbing himself trying to figure out what exactly was going on. Either that or he was doing something else that I really don't want to know about. He slowly started to take off his pants and I couldn't help but smile.

I tried not to be too obvious, and walked past him to drop my towel in the hamper. Before I turned around, I felt his hands around my neck. "You fucking fuck!" That got a lot of people's attention, and within seconds pretty much the entire team was watching a half naked Puck attacking the quarterback.

"Hands off asshole." He worked his right arm around my neck and used his left to deflect so I couldn't get him off. I could still breathe, but not well, and the pressure was starting to hurt. I gave up trying to pry him off and slammed him into a locker instead, leaving a dent that Bieste would probably have both our asses for. "Fuck dude, let go, don't make me hurt you."

"You'd like that, wouldn't you?" His voice sounded different, a lot more stressed. A few seconds later he finally let go and made a dash for the showers, tearing off the rest of his clothes and getting a ton of laughs from the guys who had figured out what was going on. As I rubbed my neck—even though it was pretty sore it was totally worth it.

"You fucking bastard!" He called from the shower. "I'm going to fuck you up for this. This is not over!" For a good minute he kept swearing at me, and I couldn't stop laughing. All his yelling just sounded freaking hilarious, especially since you could hear the pain in his voice and everything. I finally caught my breath. He was suffering, and he is my friend, so I figured I should show some sympathy.

"You were worried I was gonna do something to you. Now I did. So man the fuck up, get over it. We're even now." I guess that wasn't really that sympathetic.

"Fuck you!" Puck was still in the shower, apparently running cold water over his nuts and whatever else he'd managed to coat. I walked up to the door but didn't go in.

"I'm serious man, you screwed me over big time. Almost got me suspended. I gave you an easy out to call things even and you didn't take it, so I went to plan B."

"You fried my fucking balls."

"You humiliated me online." I leaned against the entrance to the showers and sighed. "Do you really want to keep doing this shit?"

"Fuck you."

"Right now I'd think you'd be all about a cool-down period." I had a bit of an evil smile at the point, probably a good thing he couldn't see me.

The water stopped and Puck walked over to me in a towel, panting. "You are a fucking piece of shit."

"Maybe. But now we're even."

"No. No way we're fucking even." He eyed me real funny, and for a second I thought he was going to come after me again. I braced myself. "But I'm tired of the stupid games."

I put my hand out. "We good?"

He took it. "For now." It was the best I was going to get.

"Thanks man. We have the championship and regionals and other stuff. We need to be working _together_."

"Lay of the we're-all-in-it-together bullshit. You know I'm not going to fuck the football team cause I'm pissed with you."

"Or the glee club."

"Or the glee club." He took a step closer. "Listen man, we've been friends for a long time and we've gotten through a lot of shit. I've screwed you lots of times… come to think of it I screwed your girlfriend too—"

"Ex-girlfriend," I interrupted. I saw where _this_ was going. He was just trying to irritate me while making up, so that I either had to let him have the last word or be the petty guy who wouldn't accept the truce. He may be an idiot but he really knows how to piss people off.

"Got damn close on the current one. Turns out I actually do have a conscience. But whatever. The point is you need to chill out."

"Me chill? I was ready to drop everything, even after the video. Y_ou're _the one who pushed things."

"Now you're just pointing fingers. Real mature."

He expected I was going to deny I was immature or point out something else he'd done that was stupid, but I already knew those were just going to keep us arguing. I smiled. "I did just put Icy Hot in your underwear." Real mature, huh?

He rolled his eyes and walked off. I headed over to where Artie was sitting. Artie looked up at me with a huge grin. "That. Was. Legendary. It might not have been the most creative prank ever but it was pulled of _perfectly_."

"Yeah, that lock really worked well man."

"Not just that, you played it cool. He had no idea what was about to happen," Artie said.

"I'm just glad we're even now and can move on."

Artie's smile disappeared. "Yeah… right."

XXX

Bieste had a few last things to go over, but I was out of school by 7:30 and Sam gave me a ride home in the crap mobile. Everyone else had already eaten so I heated up some mac and cheese from the weekend.

Burt walked into the kitchen. "How was practice?"

"Honestly, not the greatest," I said. "I got worn out in conditioning and it messed up my passing."

"It happens. You'll do better next practice." He went over the coffee pot and poured himself a cup. "It's going to be a long night. l need to reconcile accounts receivable and finish up ordering inventory".

"Tonight?" I asked.

"It's as good of time as any. I get distracted when I try and do paperwork during the day."

"Yeah, that makes sense. Like with people coming in all day and stuff."

He nodded. "It's not complicated, but it takes concentration." He sat down in the chair facing me. "I saw your video."

"Of practice?" Something told me that wasn't the video he was talking about. I didn't even know how he could have gotten it. It wasn't like Bieste just handed that stuff out.

"Don't play dumb, you know what video."

"I had a feeling."

"I… I'd gotten used to this with Kurt. I wasn't really expecting it from you too."

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have done it, I got talked into stuff and I should have been smarter."

The next thing he said really surprised me. "You guys were pretty good."

"What?"

"I love Kurt and I love you and even if what you're doing isn't really my thing, if it makes you happy that is what matters to me. And I try my best to be open to what you do, and I may never get into it, but I'll try."

I smiled a bit. "It's not really my thing either."

Burt sat down across from me, and looked a lot more serious. "What I can't get into is the drinking. We never did get a chance to talk about that. Got a bit distracted by your foray into fumigation."

"I know we screwed up. I get that. It won't happen again."

"You say that a lot, and then it does happen again."

I looked him straight in the eyes. "I got like 10,000 people who have watched me dancing in a tablecloth or a curtain or whatever it was. My classmates, my teachers, guys I don't know, you—I really don't plan on this happening again."

"I was your age once," Burt said, "I know how tough it can be, how easy it is to get talked into things. It's even tougher now. You need to be strong and resist those negative influences, but if you make a mistake once in a while that is part of growing up."

"So you're… cool with it?" I asked.

"No. And I won't be cool with it next time. But I know no matter what you say right now there _will_ be a next time. That's part of being a teenager. But whatever happens, you make sure you get home safe, and make sure your brother stays safe. You ever do something stupid and put either of you at risk, and that Finn is when the hammer falls." I could tell he was very serious about that.

"I'd never do anything to hurt Kurt. You know that."

"I know you wouldn't intentionally." He stood back up. "But if your judgment is impaired who knows what could happen. You need to make smart choices in the beginning so you can handle the important ones later on."

"So, basically, don't get so drunk that I can't be smart."

"Essentially yes, though I might change up the wording a bit."

I frowned. "So you think I'm an idiot when I'm sober?"

He frowned. "Relax Finn. It was a joke. An unfair one. Your report card might have more D's than a value pack of Duracells, but when it comes to having the courage to do the right thing, you are probably the smartest kid I know." With that he stood up and walked out, leaving me to think about exactly what he meant. On one hand, that was a pretty awesome thing for him to say, but the more I thought about it the more I wondered how true it was. I've done some dumb stuff and hurt people I cared about.

It was already past 8:30 and I had a stack of HW that was probably going to take a couple hours to go through. Since the math stuff was the hardest, I started with it, gave up, and moved on to English. And that just pissed me off to because we read this book (by read I mean SparkNotes) about talking animals and get questions like "Name two lead characters and what pre-war Soviet leaders they represent."

I had government and politics test in the morning, which was like half US history and half how government works, which is kind of weird because all I ever hear anyone say is that it doesn't work. It seems so simple when Ms. White goes over it in class, but it's so complicated in real life and when I'm taking the test.

I pulled out my phone to check the time, and realized it was still set to vibrate. And I had nine missed calls and fourteen text messages. All from one person. This was not good.

**What are you thinking for our duet this week?**

**I'd like to go over some options with you.**

**Why aren't you picking up?**

**Finn—Pick Up!**

**I don't like it when you ignore me Finn.**

I gave up reading through them since I knew they'd only get worse. After taking a few seconds to figure out how I was going to play this, I decided to just lay things out straight. Hopefully the fact that I was actually doing homework would be enough of a pleasant surprise to calm her down. If not, at least I'd have something to whip out next time she yelled at me for not doing homework.

She answered just after the first ring. "Where have you been?"

"Sorry babe… I turned off my phone for football practice and then got caught up in homework."

"Turned it off? Then why did it still ring when I called?"

"I meant I put it on vibrate." Why does she need to be so suspicious?

"That's not off."

"You know what I meant, Rachel," I said, sounding a bit more annoyed than I should have. "Sorry… I mean I just said it wrong. I'm not trying to hide something. I've really been working on homework and trying stuff. I spent the last hour writing about a Russian pig or something."

"A _what?_" she said loudly.

"It doesn't matter."

"Don't turn in something stupid Finn."

"Why do you say that?"

She waited a couple seconds before answering. "I just worry about you getting into college."

"I still might get a football scholarship."

"I'm sure you deserve one, but you need to have a plan B." She paused again. "And, to be honest, I'm kind of hoping for plan B."

"Huh?"

"You deserve that scholarship Finn. But the schools I'm looking at aren't known for their athletic programs. I worry that if you pursue football..." She just kind of trailed off, but the point was clear. A football scholarship would mean different colleges, and probably not anywhere near each other. "I think you're a shoo-in on a performing arts scholarship though."

"I guess, maybe... I mean they are competitive too..."

"With your talent you'd have no problem. Of course, they consider academics too, so you'll need to get your GPA up."

"Why do you think I'm _doing_ homework?"

She laughed at that for a second, then her voice got serious again. "I want you to be happy Finn, but I still hope that we can go to school together, or if not together, near each other. If you're at OSU playing football and I'm in New York we'll never see each other."

"Rach, I don't know what I want to do yet. But whatever happens we'll make it work."

She paused a few more seconds. "I love you."

"I love you too."

"So I'm thinking about the benefit performance," she continued. The 'I love you' followed by the quick topic switch was a typical Rachel move when she wanted me to go along with what she was saying. It normally works too even though I totally know what she's doing. "I've been looking through the top grossing musicals of the 60s, 70s, and 80s trying to find the perfect duet for us to sing."

"Uh, Rach, I don't think Mr. Schue was talking about Broadway stuff."

"He said 'chart toppers'."

"Yeah, but I think he meant the stuff everyone knows."

She scoffed. "You don't think everyone knows the principal musicals of those years? You want me to believe that Led Zeppelin somehow beats out the immortal 1970s hits like _Grease_ and _Chicago_? Or Bob Dylan is somehow more memorable than the incredible 60s classics like _Cabaret _and _Funny Girl?_"

"Um, yes." There was no right answer there.

"You really have no appreciation for the cultural significance of musical theater."

"None at all. I just sing show tunes in front of big crowds so kids from other schools will throw eggs at me."

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't be so cynical."

"I'm sure all those things are just great. But we're talking about a bunch of old business dudes. They aren't going to be into that stuff like you are."

"I guess you have a point," she said sounding disappointed. She knew I was right, but it wasn't what she wanted to hear.

"Rach?"

"Yes?"

"We'll figure out something really, really good for this arts club thing," I said. "And then, if you want, I'll do something with you from one of those shows you like. We'll figure out some way to squeeze it in. If we can't do it in class, we'll do it someplace else."

"Really?"

"Absolutely." I'd need to remind her I never said I'd do it in costume. Especially if she picks something from _Cats._

"I love you Finn."

"I love you Rachel." I looked back at the government assignment. "How 'bout we both think about this some more, and we'll figure out something freaking awesome tomorrow."

She made a happy noise, then said, "Ok, I'll talk to you tomorrow. Goodnight."

"Goodnight Rach. I love you."

"I love you too." I waited a few seconds until she finally hung up and then put my phone away. I thought about what Rach had said for a second. As much as I'd dreamed about a football scholarship I wanted to be with her too. I was starting to second guess if the football thing real was Plan A. In the meantime it's all about keeping options open. That meant kicking ass in football and getting the GPA up.

Time to get back to work.

**Thank you for reading, and please take a moment review!**


	10. Before the Storm

**It is the calm before the storm-Finn deserves to have a few good days! ****Thanks again for the reviews, and thanks to wood-u-like-2-no for his beta reading!**

I got more than six hours of sleep in my own bed, which was pretty much the best six hours of the week up to that point. Even needing to wake up early for detention, it was the first time I didn't feel like puking when I woke up.

Since Kurt was not willing to drive in early, I hitched a ride with Burt. It was nice to have a chat with him about stuff that wasn't too heavy. Mainly we just argued about the Browns getting rid of a defensive end—he thought it was a good move, I didn't. But even though we didn't agree, it was way better than talking about responsibility and stuff.

"You're late," Mr. Schue said when I walked through the door. Being late is a pretty big deal in detention. They can add on another day even if your only there like a minute after your supposed to be.

"I—sorry." Burt drives like an old man sometimes.

"Only warning, Finn. Tomorrow be hear 7:00am sharp."

"Yeah, sure… thanks Mr. Schue." I found a desk in the front and sat down quickly. There were about four or five other guys in the room. No clue what they did.

"If you have any schoolwork that needs to be done, or any studying to do, it would be a great time for that," Mr. Schue said. "Keep quiet, no talking about anything not school related." He pointed to a desk in the front of the room. "Donuts are up front, take one if you'd like. It is early, I know not all of you have had time for breakfast."

I waited until the other guys picked out theirs and grabbed two of the ones that were left. "Thanks Mr. Schue."

"I thought I said one."

"Um, yeah, I thought you meant it more like the take one signs on the little sample things in the grocery store, not literally one."

"How many of those—never mind, I don't want to know." He waved his hand to the other side of the desk. "Pull up a chair."

I did. "Yeah, sorry again about being late. It's just tough 'cause I don't have my own car."

"It's alright, but I am serious about tomorrow. I can't give you any special treatment."

"I understand."

"So, have you thought about the concert at all?"

"Kinda. Rach and I talked a little about it. I'm thinking like something top 40, anything like Zeppelin or maybe Boston, even U2 or something, and we do it as a duet. Or we could do the Eagles, or how 'bout Deaf Leopard or-"

"I guess you haven't narrowed it down much."

"It's hard, I was kind of waiting to see if Rachel came up with anything. All she suggested so far were show tunes though."

Mr. Schue thought that was funny. "That sounds like Rachel." He pulled a few pages of sheet music out of his bag and handed them to me.

"Wait, you already picked a song?"

Mr. Schue smiled, except it wasn't his normal smile. It was the one he uses when he comes out on top after arguing with Ms. Sylvester. "I found out that Vocal Adrenaline will be one of the other groups performing, and I thought we could use the opportunity to send a little message."

I read through the lyrics and smiled at Mr. Schue. Not my normal smile either, more like the one I had when Puck was screaming about his nuts in the shower.

"I had a feeling you'd like it," Mr. Schue said. "It's on the older end of our timeframe, but some songs are truly timeless."

"I've heard it before," I said. "I never really thought about it for Glee Club though."

"We rearrange it into an ensemble, put a bit of a modern twist on it, and I think we have a winner."

"I thought you said this wasn't a competition?"

"It's an expression. The real winner is the arts budget if we can get these folks to open their wallets. But if we have just a bit more applause than Vocal Adrenaline, I'll take that too." He glanced towards the back of the room where everyone else was sitting and looked back at me. "So, you think we should go for it?"

I smiled. "Totally."

"So I'm thinking you'll start off alone, keeping it kind of somber like the original and we'll gradually add to that."

"Me? I don't know if that's really the best thing."

He looked surprised. "I know Dylan can be a bit intimidating, but no one is asking you to mimic him. This will be your own take on it."

"No, it's not that…" I took a deep breath. "Rachel really has her heart set on a duet."

"We have two songs," Mr. Schue said.

"Yeah, but is it really cool for me to have the lead in both?" I asked.

He nodded. "You're right. We have a lot of very talented members, and I want to feature as many as possible."

"So I kind of want to do it with Rachel."

"Do you want to do it with _her_, or does she want to do it with _you_?" Mr. Schue asked. I heard someone in the back of the room snickering. "What's going on back there."

"What's going on up there?" one of the guys said. "All I can hear is you guys talking about getting laid."

"That's not amusing. Don't make me separate you all," Mr. Schue said. I was kind of surprised that he just let that pass, but I guess that's the kind of comments teachers get in detention. He turned back to me. "Do you want to do the duet because it's what you want, or because you're worried not doing it will upset Rachel?"

"I… I'm not really sure. I guess I'd be down with doing the other one. But I can't do that to her. I promised."

"When you promised her, did you know that I was going to ask you to take the lead in a different song?"

What kind of question was that? "No, you just told me that this morning."

"Do you think Rachel would understand if you wanted to do something different now that things have changed?"

"I don't know, I'm not sure she'd be cool with that."

Mr. Schue leaned forward and put his hand on my shoulder. "Rachel's a big girl Finn. I think she'd take it better than you think."

"Yeah, but she gets so uptight about this stuff. Performing means so much to her."

"I never said she couldn't do a solo piece, or a duet with someone else," Mr. Schue said.

I could tell Mr. Schue really wanted me to do this. He was trying not to be too pushy but I could still tell, and I didn't want to let him down. "I'd like to do the Dylan song, but still I promised her…"

"Talk to her, tell her how you feel. Let her decide. But I think you might be surprised what she says."

"She does like talking about feelings…"

"Finn, I know this from my mistakes. The give and take is important in any relationship. When you let someone take charge all the time, it leads to bad places. Sometimes it's hard; when you love someone you want to give them everything you can. But if you learn to balance what you both need now, you'll be stronger in the long run."

"Are you talking about Ms. Holiday?"

"No. And that is kind of a personal question."

"Oh sorry."

"It's ok." He sat there for a few seconds. I guess he was trying to decide if he wanted to get into this stuff with me. He leaned across the desk and got a lot quieter to make sure no one else in the room could hear. "It was Terri. We were high school sweethearts, not much different than you and Rachel. And I thought I could give her everything she wanted. Whatever it was, if she asked, I did it. You can't live like that Finn. Cracks start to form, and it doesn't work. You start making unreasonable demands of one another."

"Like what?"

I guess what the demands were wasn't part of the lesson because he just kept going. "We started thinking irrationally. We lost our ability to trust one another, and finally we couldn't be together."

"Yeah, that must have sucked."

Mr. Schue actually smiled a bit, which I thought was kind of odd given we were talking about how his marriage went down the drain. "That's a succinct way of putting it. But the point is a relationship is give and take. I'm not saying you need to go out and find things to argue about, but when something comes up, don't just do what she wants. Talk about it, explain how you feel. Let her know what is important to you."

I had one big question though. "What happens if she still says no?"

"Then you have a decision to make." He smiled again. "It is a balancing act and you may still find yourself giving in a lot. It comes with being a man. But if you just assume she's going to say no, you are doing both of you disservice."

It's interesting how Mr. Schue is like the only teacher who ever opens up to me like this. That's part of why I've learned so much from him. Spanish class is ok and everything, but this was stuff I could actually use. And Mr. Schue was cool with admitting things he'd screwed up. And I know I make lots of screwups, so if he could give me a heads up on one or two that's a really good thing.

Mr. Schue looked at his watch. "The bell is going to ring in about two minutes. How about we pack things up, you talk to Rachel, and you let me know at rehearsal what the plan is."

"Yeah, about rehearsal. I'm not sure I can make it today, even for a little while." Mr. Schue looked surprised but waited for me to explain. "I kinda screwed up yesterday and got into an argument with Coach Bieste and I just want to make sure everything goes good today."

Mr. Schue actually laughed at that. "It's alright. I heard what happened."

"What? How?"

"I ran into Coach Bieste this morning on my way in. She mentioned you'd been a little disrespectful."

"I didn't mean to be. It's just there was this play change that she won't drop and then she got angry 'cause I was tired and then she wanted-"

"We talked about you for a few minutes, and both agreed that the attitude wasn't like you. I think she's willing to chalk it up to you being tired."

"Yeah, it was a long weekend. Things kind of got messed up."

"Well, you'll want to keep them from getting messed up again. I wouldn't try her patience."

"Yeah. Totally. Thanks."

"So if you want to go practice that's fine. Just swing by the choir room and me know what the verdict is."

"The verdict? Who's on trial?"

"The decision you and Rachel come to."

"Oh, yeah, right. I'll talk to her." The bell rang. "I'll see you in class."

"Finn," he said, nodding his head to the donut box. "We have a few extras."

It was my turn to smile. "And you were worried we'd run out."

"No, I was just disappointed that you didn't follow instructions."

I grinned. "You always tell us to push the limits."

He shook his head. "Just let me know what you decide. I think you'd kill at the Dylan song."

I wasn't so sure, but it would be cool. If only because we'd get to stick it to Vocal Adrenaline. "I'll keep you posted."

Government and Politics went about as well as I thought it would. Something told me when I got the test back Thursday no one was going to be happy, but that was something to worry about on Thursday. After that it was time for Spanish. I kind of felt bad because I had totally spaced on my homework, but Mr. Schue didn't seem surprised and told me just to make sure I caught up by the end of the week.

The funny thing about lunchroom pizza is that there are good slices and bad slices. So if you aren't in the front of the line, you kind of get screwed. It gets picked over fast. Plus they are kind of small, so most of the guys at least buy two. While I was in line, I saw Kurt waving at me, but I wasn't about to give up my spot. Once I had two good slices, I headed over.

He pointed at my meal. "So can you get a side of deep fried lard with that, or is the pizza already bumping against your monthly nutritional allowance for grease?"

"It's pizza. It's supposed to be greasy."

"Do you even know what's in it?" He asked.

"Why would I care?"

"Most relatively sane people have some desire to understand what they are consuming."

"I still eat a Taco Town and they use earthworm filler." It tastes like real beef.

"Yet you decried Burger Town for mixing ground beef with tofu."

"I what?"

Kurt rolled his eyes. "You complained that they mixed tofu into their burgers."

"Why wouldn't I? It makes it taste like crap."

"I guess relatively sane was the operative phrase." He shook his head. "I hardly saw you yesterday," Kurt said.

"I've been busy. Lots of homework. Lots of stuff."

"I can tell when you're stressed out by homework and when something else is bothering you."

"It's just—" where to start…

"Football?" he asked.

"Yeah… I'm…" I leaned across the table and talked really quiet. "I'm not totally sure we can pull this off." Me having doubts was not something I really wanted getting out around school, but no one was really paying attention. Still, I tried to keep my voice low.

He shrugged. "So what?"

I glared at him. "What the hell do you mean 'so what'? This is what I've been working towards all year."

"And how much work have we put into glee club each year? We got close last year, really close. But we couldn't quite pull it off."

"Yeah, uh…" No one was really happy with me about how that turned out.

He rolled his eyes. "I'm not trying to bring up anything," he said. "My point is that everyone worked hard, we had a great time, and we are proud of what we accomplished. I wasn't there the whole time, but when I was—I wouldn't trade that for anything."

I knew how he felt, but this was different. "OK, maybe last year I'd go with that, but this year I need to win if I'm going to get a scholarship."

"You really think no one has noticed the quarterback that turned around the worst team in the conference? I think they've already made up their mind about you, and if you don't get a scholarship they're fools."

It was a lot more complicated than that. If I were in a happening city like Columbus or Toledo where news gets out maybe, but no one knows what goes on out in Lima until you force them to look. That's what a championship game does.

"I really don't think I can get a scholarship without winning."

"Not getting a scholarship wouldn't be the worst thing in the world."

"Not the worst, but-"

"What are the chances that you get a football scholarship to the same school Rachel decided to go to?" Kurt asked. It was the same problem Rachel had brought up the night before.

"I don't know."

"Most of the schools Rachel is looking at don't have big football programs, they aren't the places that give out a lot of athletic scholarships. If you want to be together, you'll have a better chance with an arts scholarship."

"Ms. Pillsbury says that those are easier to get anyway."

"I don't know, but if you want to be with Rachel in college, that is your best option."

"And if Rachel still wants to be with me," I said. "It seems like I keep finding new ways to get her ticked." I might as well run the whole song dilemma past Kurt. He's good at helping me prep for the touchy feely sessions.

Kurt gave me a funny smile. "What did you do now?"

"The whole arts donation raising thing next week. Mr. Schue wants me to take the lead on the ensemble piece."

"That's great." Then he mumbled, "Though not exactly unexpected."

"Don't hate. Look, I want to say yes 'cause it was Mr. Schue asking. But Rach wanted to do a duet. No way I'm going to get the lead on both songs."

"She can't hold it against you if Mr. Schue asks you to do something."

"Yeah, but I sort of promised her I'd do it."

"Then you shouldn't have said yes to Mr. Schuester."

I hadn't technically said yes yet, but that wasn't really the point. "But it's Mr. Schue…"

"True, I know how close you are to him, what else could you do?"

"Exactly!" I said. "I just don't know if Rachel will get that. I'll try and explain it to her, but sometimes she can be, a little, you know…"

"Stubborn? Inflexible? Obstinate? Crazy?"

"Hey…" I gave him a nasty look, but really he was kind of right. Rachel could be all that stuff. I actually ended up googling obstinate because people kept calling Rachel that. "But, it is for Mr. Schue, and as much as they fight sometimes she really respects him."

"If she'd yield you to someone else, it would probably be him."

"I just still feel bad about it."

"True," he said, "You did promise her."

This was going in circles. "You're not really being that helpful."

"I'm not trying to be," he said. "Finn, you know how big life choices work. You need to choose a path and accept the consequences."

"Yeah… I guess you're right." Can't live in the past, though since Rachel didn't really know about it yet it was more the future.

"Except this isn't one of those decisions. This is insignificant. You just need to relax. Sure Rachel might be upset, but so what? You think everything I do makes Blaine happy? You think our parents are always dancing to the same minute?"

I'd never seen them dance to classical music except at the wedding reception. But I did get what he was saying. "I know, I mean I get we'll have disagreements. But it's like I can never get ahead. It's always something going wrong. I screw up this weekend, apologize, make her happy, and screw up again. It doesn't matter if they are small screw ups, I just can't figure out why I keep doing it."

"You're making it hard on yourself. Rachel is particular, but normally you can pull her back from the brink of lunacy and get her to settle for something rational."

"I guess… Mr. Schue says that it's normal to try and go too far to please someone though, and I guess I sort of do that." I'm just not always _good_ at it.

"It's all about finding alternatives that make everyone happy. For example, with the song… if you do what Mr. Schue wants, what can you do for Rachel to make up for it?"

I thought for about 15 seconds. "She really wanted to do some musical thing. I know that we're not going to do that at the event, but we could still do it at rehearsal. You know, for fun."

Kurt smiled. "Perfect. Instead of some hackneyed classic rock song, you do something that means a lot to her."

"Yeah, but rehearsal isn't the same as a performance."

"But that's the beauty of it," he said. "You know the glee club isn't going to pick a showtune, and even if they did I think Mr. Schue might step in. As much as I adore the magnificence that is Broadway, I wouldn't want to jeopardize our fundraising potential by selecting a song that lacks the mainstream appeal our patrons are expecting. Singing in rehearsal is the only alternative that lets Rachel get what she wants."

"I guess it's worth a shot. Thanks man." I slapped him on the shoulder. "By the way, you want any of my pizza?"

Kurt frowned. "At what point did I give you the impression that I'd even consider allowing that trans-fat laced goo to come in contact with body?"

"You did seem kind of interested in it before."

"Feigning interest for the purpose of ridiculing your dietary choices is not the same as actual interest."

I shrugged. "Your loss." I'd known he wouldn't want any, which was fine, I didn't really want to give it to him anyway. I just couldn't resist messing with him a bit.

"Somehow I doubt I'll be having any regrets."

The rest of the day pretty much rolled by like normal. In bio, we we're doing some sort of lab thing on Thursday, so we spent most of the class talking about all the things to look for, which seems like it kind of defeats the point. It's like going to see a movie after somebody gives you the play by play of everything that happens. And then you have the whole lecture after the lab talking about what we saw. I'm never going to actually use this stuff, but we go over it three times. On the plus side you can sleep through a lot of classes and still pass, as long as you don't get caught.

After that I had to suffer through personal finance, which is totally just another name for a math class. Rachel said I should take it and my Mom said she thought it would help me be better with money. It's not like I do dumb stuff with money, I just spend it on stuff I want and apparently that isn't 'being responsible'.

I actually wasn't too worked up about talking with Rachel. Mr. Schue had made some really good points, and Kurt had some ideas that might work. It's kind of weird when your brother is one of your girlfriend's girlfriends, but it does work out sometimes when I need some advice. I still don't know if it's a good thing though. It kind of hurts when she won't open up to me about stuff but has no problem talking about it with Kurt. Though maybe that's a good thing too, the whole talking thing can be kind of overrated, especially if she's upset about something dumb.

She was at her locker talking with Tina. Whatever they were discussing it must have been pretty heavy because neither of them noticed me. I snuck up behind Rachel and wrapped my arms around her.

Tina looked at me and frowned. "Interrupt much?"

"Sorry," I said kind of confused. "I, uh, need to borrow Rachel for a second."

Tina shrugged and walked away. Rachel turned around and pulled away a bit. "That was kind of rude."

"Yeah, why'd she just walk off like that?"

"I meant _you_."

"Oh."

She grabbed my shoulders. "I love it when you surprise me, but sometimes you need to be a bit more—conscientious of what is going on around you."

"Huh?"

"You didn't see that Tina had been crying?"

"No… I wasn't really looking at _her_ though," I said with a grin.

That got a bit of a smile out of Rachel, but she wasn't done with the lecture. "I'm being serious, Finn. You can't just interrupt other people whenever you feel like it. Sometimes we're having sensitive conversations."

"I didn't say she had to leave."

"Saying you need to 'borrow' me implies that you don't want her around."

"That's not what I meant…. OK, it sort of was, but if she would have said something..."

Rachel shook her head. "She has a hard enough time opening up to me. She wasn't about to explain what is going on to you."

I shrugged. "Sorry, I didn't know."

"I'm not upset Finn. Just so you know in the future." Rachel stepped closer to me. "So, what was so urgent you needed to steal me away?"

I looked down the hall where Tina had headed. "You don't need to, like, go help her or anything?"

Rachel shook her head. "We were about ready to head to rehearsal anyway."

"So wait-what's the big deal about me interrupting then?"

"Just because we were finishing up doesn't change the fact that you need to be more observant when it comes to these types of situations. Now are we going to rehearsal or do you have something to say first?"

"It's about the performance next week. I know you wanted to do a duet, but Mr. Schue asked me to take the lead on the ensemble piece." She gave me an unhappy look but didn't say anything. "I told him I needed to talk with you first."

"I'm assuming this ensemble piece would be in lieu of our duet," she said.

"No, probably instead of it. It doesn't look good if I have the lead in both songs." I squeezed her hands. "I know I promised you, but Mr. Schue really wants me to do this and I really want to help him out."

She made a face but I couldn't really tell what it meant. "I know how much pleasing Mr. Schuester means to you." She sighed. "If that's what you really want to do…"

"Actually, what I really want to do is sing one of your musical things in rehearsal on Thursday." A big smile spread slowly across her face. "If we're not going to be singing the song at the concert anyway, we might as well do whatever you want to do. It's not like a public performance or anything, but it could still be pretty sweet."

"Anything?"

"Anything you want."

She hugged me. "You always find new ways to amaze me."

"And you're just amazing." I motioned down the hall. "Come on, let's get to the choir room. You have rehearsal and I need to let Mr. Schue know the plan."

It was a short walk to the choir room. Pretty much everyone was there, including Tina who gave me a cold stare. Mr. Schue glanced up from his sheet music.

"Finn and I will not be doing a duet for the SAASVAMPAC performance," she said excitedly to everyone. I could tell the fact she was happy about it really confused Mr. Schue.

"That's—are you going to try out with a solo piece?" Mr. Schue asked.

She paused for a second. I guess in the excitement of doing a musical she'd forgotten she could try out for a solo. "Instead of competing to perform at the event, Finn and I have decided to present a classic Broadway hit from the same time period."

"That's great Rachel," Mr. Schue said. He looked at me. "We'll be doing a dry run and working out choreography for The 'Times They Are A-Changing on Friday', but I'll need your help with some preliminary work tomorrow morning." He looked back at the rest of the class. "As for the rest of you, we still need to pick a second piece for Tuesday's concert, so those of you who want a shot at it be ready with your songs on Thursday.

"So if we're all good, I'm going to get out to practice," I said.

Mr. Schue nodded. "Thanks for stopping in Finn. And thanks for doing the song."

"No problem, like you said it's all about the give and take."

Practice went a lot better. Not only did Coach Bieste not try to kill me, we actually won both our scrimmages with better than a 14 point spread. Needless to say I was feeling pretty good by the time I got home that night. Rachel was happy, Mr. Schue was happy, as far as I could tell Coach Bieste was happy, and after kicking ass for three hours on the field, I was tired but happy.

It just really sucks I couldn't get at least two days in a row like that.

**Thanks for reading!**

**Reviews are appreciated and encouraged!**


	11. Top of Descent

**A/N: Thanks again for the reviews and comments! Based on wood-u-like-2-no's valuable feedback, I'd like to point out that there will be an explanation as to how a football player from another school would get so much information on Finn's background.**

**Oh, and credit for the song selection goes to the East Coast Earthquake of 2011 which started knocking things off my desk as I was writing the rough draft of this chapter!**

I got up ten minutes earlier than the day before and made sure we left earlier. Burt was kind of upset that I kept bugging him to hurry up, but I think he let it go because it showed responsibility and he's big on that. We didn't hit any lights, which was pretty epic, so I actually beat Mr. Schue. When he walked in at about five of seven I was already sitting in the front row, doing the Spanish assignment I'd forgotten the day before.

After he went through the same spiel about "good time to do work and stay quiet" like he did the last time (which was kind of a waste because except for one dude it was all the same people) he called me up to the front and we swapped some ideas for the performance. Mr. Schue had looked up some different covers on youtube and showed me a couple on his laptop. People had come up with all sorts of crazy arrangements from a cappella to techno, but we decided that the audience wouldn't want something too off the wall. We'd spice it up a bit and make it work for a dozen people but still try and keep it pretty true to the original.

We'd almost figured out an arrangement when the bell rang. Choreography was going to need to wait. The day actually went pretty smoothly.

At lunch I ran into Martin Wade of the school paper, who wanted me to do an interview before the big game. I don't really like the whole interviewing thing, mainly because they like to twist your words and make you sound stupid or mean or whatever they think is going to generate a scandal. Mark, though, is pretty legit when it comes to the whole journalism thing, so I said yes. I told him to meet up with me after class on Thursday.

The afternoon went pretty smooth too. There was no glee rehearsal on Wednesdays, and football practice let out at 4:30. I went home, got some food and knocked out my homework for an hour or so before heading out to the mall.

We started doing our mall concerts a few months before as a way to raise money for glee club. We had to run it by the rule-making guys and everything, but since the mall wasn't paying for us to sing we were set. Anything people dropped in our jar was a donation, no different than a fundraiser or something. We normally raised $50 or $60 a night, though twice we'd broken $100.

I guess it is sort of a band. Depending who shows up we sometimes use recordings and sometimes to live music, and we do some songs a cappella so you don't really need either for that. A lot of times some of Artie's jazz band friends give us a hand, including Jason Wood. Jason's an ok guy I guess, but he always seems kind of cool towards me. It might have to do with how I kind of kick him off the drums during performances whenever I feel like it, but this is glee club. My thing. It's not like I'd do that to him in jazz band.

When I got there Puck and Jason we're getting things ready. I offered to give them a hand, but it wasn't like there was much to do. We're pretty simple when it comes to the setup. There is the really wide step going up to the big fountain, and it's kind of tight for everybody but it works as a stage. It's only like a foot higher than the floor, but that's enough for an informal concert. It's not like we got huge crowds, and if anyone couldn't see they could always go and chill on the upper level and look down.

Artie showed up about five minutes later, along with Charlie Low, a band buddy of his who played guitar like Hendrix. The fact that he was here meant things were going to get punched up a few notches.

We started off with Puck singing Taio Cruz's "Break Your Heart" which seemed totally appropriate. I took care of the drums, and Artie backed up on the vocals. It was a good song to get things started, by the time he was done we had a good thirty or forty people around. We ran through a couple of current Top 40 hits, then ran through some Red Hot Chilli Peppers, Radiohead, Matchbox 20, and R.E.M.. Just kind of a mix for the kind of people you get in the mall. I guess it sort of went along with what Mr. Schue was having us do for the big fundraiser, the better they like your selection the more money they put in the jar.

I was getting ready for the last song of the set when I spotted them. Six big guys, all in those ugly blue West Marion High jackets. I knew instantly the tall guy was Jake Hausner. There is no other football player in the world that looks like him. The dude is 6'7" but rail thin; the roster puts him at 180 pounds. Built like that he was as fast as anyone else on the field, yet somehow he has the strength and power to knock down a 300 pound offensive lineman. There was a reason he was two-time state defensive MVP, and I wanted to make damn sure he didn't get that little trophy again. I wasn't sure what he was doing in the Lima mall, but I was willing to bet it involved screwing with us.

"Check out the asswipe brigade upstairs," Puck said, pointing to where the Marion guys were leaning against the railing.

"I saw."

"Why are they spying on us singing?"

"Dunno..." I shrugged and walked over to the wireless mic, pulling it off the stand. Nothing to do now but rock it. "Let's go."

Artie started off, and after about three notes I could tell a lot of people knew what was coming. Kyle came in with the drums, and I stepped down of the 'stage' to get closer to the crowd. We had a lot of girls in the crowd, some of them pretty hot, and I gave them smile before I started. Flirting isn't wrong if it's part of a performance.

_She was a fast machine  
She kept her motor clean  
She was the best damn woman that I ever seen  
She had the sightless eyes  
Telling me no lies  
Knockin' me out with those American thighs _

By now we had some serious clapping going on and everyone was moving to the beat. I always like singing down with the crowd, there's kind of an energy you get that doesn't always make it up on stage. Plus, I think it's just a cooler show.  
_  
Taking more than her share  
Had me fighting for air  
She told me to come but I was already there  
'Cause the walls start shaking  
The earth was quaking  
My mind was aching  
And we were making it and you -  
_  
I jumped back up on stage and pointed out to the crowd as we started the chorus, and slowly panned my hand from left to right. It got the girls pretty excited.  
_  
Shook me all night long  
Yeah you shook me all night long_

I hopped back down and danced a little with a couple a chicks I recognized from school. It wasn't anything fancy, just kind of swaying together, but it was fun and made them happy. Like I said, it's all about pleasing the crowd. I was hoping Rachel would understand that if it got back to her, but I figured she probably would. I mean, she's all about show business.  
_  
Working double time  
On the seduction line  
She was one of a kind, she's just mine all mine  
Wanted no applause  
Just another course  
Made a meal out of me and came back for more  
Had to cool me down  
To take another round  
Now I'm back in the ring to take another swing_

'Cause the walls were shaking  
The earth was quaking  
My mind was aching  
And we were making it and you -

I hopped back up on stage. Not that it was a big hop, it's like 8 inches. I pumped my fist to the first few lines of the chorus to get everyone worked up.  
_  
Shook me all night long  
Yeah you shook me all night long_

And knocked me out and then you 

Having kind of built up the energy and all I pointed the mic out at the crowd and let them sing the next three lines. And they did it really excitedly, which was good because when the audience just sits there it kind of ruins the whole flow of the song.  
_  
Shook me all night long  
You had me shakin' and you  
Shook me all night long  
Yeah you shook me  
Well you took me_

For the instrumental interlude I slid over next to Jason and tapped him on the shoulder. He knew what that meant. We'd gotten pretty good at doing a quick swap out, and ended up missing only a few beats during the switch. After too short of a time at the drums, we swapped again and I was back singing the chorus.  
_  
You really took me and you  
Shook me all night long  
Ooooh you  
Shook me all night long  
Yeah, yeah, you  
Shook me all night long_

Your really took me and you  
Yeah you shook me, yeah you shook me  
All night long

The applause for that one definitely topped everything else so far that night. As it died down, we made sure our stuff was secure, and Puck and I headed over to McDonalds for some drinks. I decided to spring for some fries too, it wasn't like there was going to be dinner waiting when I got home.

Just after we sat down in the food court, a voice I hadn't heard in years said, "Wasn't that song a bit inappropriate for you to sing?"

I looked behind me and saw Jake Hausner and his goons. Honestly I wanted to punch him. That face just pissed me off, and the fact he had the nerve to show up here... but that was probably what he wanted-to get under my skin. Best to try and play it cool. "I guess one or two people might be offended, but it's a sweet song and most people enjoy it."

Hausner smirked. "No, I meant inappropriate for _you_ to sing." I gave him a funny look, so he explained. "Because of your relationship."

"Not like it's any of your business, but Rachel knows I'm not going to run off with another girl or something."

"So you got the cheating out of your system? That's good. But it doesn't change the fact 'Shook me all night long' seems to imply that you are actually _getting some._"

It took me a few seconds to get my head around what he had just said. I mean, I knew he was trouble that was still out of left field. Puck had to jump in though. He smiled at me and said, "You're girlfriend is such a prude they've heard about it two counties over."

I told Puck to shut up and looked back at Hausner. "Fuck you."

Hausner gave me a nasty smile. "No thanks, _my _girlfriend takes care of that. But I guess I should be flattered by your advances."

"My what? What the hell are you talking about?"

"I'm simply assuming that when you said 'fuck you' it was an offer. Someone of your stature wouldn't be so crude as to use the term in a derogatory manner, now would you?"

Puck and I looked at each other. "Come on man, stop with the BS and say what you mean," Puck said.

Hausner looked at Puck. "I'm trying to have an intelligent conversation with my old friend Finn, but alas, my assumptions about his intellect were off base." He looked at me and smiled. "I'm saying your about as sharp as a marble."

"Hey, just cause I got some D's on my report card doesn't mean I can't beat your ass."

"I thought I made it clear I'm not interested," the jerk said. "And I never questioned that you could. I'm sure there are some very successful prostitutes that never did well in school."

"First off, I'm not a successful prostitute-"

"I'm sorry to hear that. The business isn't for everyone. I'd imagine most men of your persuasion prefer someone with a bit more definition. Hitting the gym a bit more might improve business."

I decided to ignore the crack about my body. Even Santana said I was looking good, and she's normally the first one to take someone down for their appearance or something superstitious like that. "Listen, I'm not gay. I don't know what makes you think that, but I'm not. I have a girlfriend."

"Does she need to be inflated before use?" one of Hausner's goons asked.

I got out of my chair. "What was that?"

"You heard me," the jerk said.

Hausner put his hands up. "I know, I know. You do have one. About three feet tall with tiny boobs."

"She's better than any of the bimbos you're hanging out with." I actually had no clue who he was dating, but I was still pretty sure about that.

He smirked again. "You know Finn, as a star football player I can have whoever I want. And I've found that girls are like rocks. You're best off skipping the flat ones."

I got toe to toe with him and stood straight up, which normally means I'm looking down at someone. The whole needing to look up at somebody else is really something I'm not used to and is kind of weird. It's not like I never met someone taller than me, but it doesn't happen often, and Hausner isn't just taller, he's a lot taller. It's a lot harder to freak someone out just by standing there when they are bigger than you. Plus, he had more goons then I had friends at the moment. Still, I wasn't going to let him bash on Rachel.

"That's my girlfriend you're talking about."

"Good. I'm glad you caught on."

"I'm not going to sit here and let you talk crap about her." Technically I was standing, but I think I made my point.

"You're not going to deny that she's lacking in the tit department, are you?"

"Why are you so obsessed with this? Why do you even care?"

Puck already had it figured out. "I know your game here. You just sit around and screw with the other team until someone throws a punch. Then you rat them out and suddenly they're on the bench for the game." He looked over to me. "I got hit Freshman year, beat up some Delphos kid and got suspended for two games. Doesn't even need to be on school grounds."

Hausner laughed. "That assumes that I have some desire to get Finn off the team. In reality, I look forward to proving that he is a fluke, a nothing. There is simply no way someone so pathetic could be at the helm of a team that made it so far, and I intend to make that very clear this weekend."

"I don't buy it," Puck said. "He's not pathetic-you know that, and you're afraid."

Hausner snorted. "Really. A guy—and I use the term loosely—a guy who spends his free time running around in fairy outfits and singing about his feelings is not someone who belongs on a football field."

"And you're the one making the call?" I heard a familiar voice say. I turned around and saw Blaine. Kurt was standing next to him with a ridiculously huge shopping bag.

Hausner turned to face them. "I see queer team six is here to back you up."

"Finn doesn't need backup," Blaine said. "He can handle himself."

"I guess he ends up doing that a lot," Hausner said.

Kurt rolled his eyes. "Real mature. But I suppose we shouldn't be expecting anything more from a homophobic Neanderthal like yourself."

"Homophobic?" Hausner said. "I have no problem with two guys being butt buddies. I just don't want them anywhere near me when they are doing it. And I don't want some fudge packer checking out my ass on the field."

"Don't flatter yourself, it's hardly that impressive," Kurt said. "Personally, I'm not much for stick figures."

"No wonder you and your step-brother are so close," Hausner said. "You like a guy with some meat on his bones." Dick.

"If by that you mean tall and athletic, then yes. But you've got a lot to learn if you think some carnal physical attraction defines who I want to be intimate with."

"Please stop talking Kurt," I said quietly, but the damage was done. When Kurt gets on his anti-anti-gay warpath, it can be tough to get him to calm down.

Hausner waved his hand in a circle. "So do you guys all have a three way, or how does this thing work?"

I could see he was enjoying this. I wanted to wipe that little smirk off his face, but I knew that was what he wanted, so I tried to stay calm and explain how stupid what he had just said was. "Ok, let me lay it out for you."

"I thought I'd made it clear I don't swing that way."

I took a really deep breath. "Listen man, you can think whatever the hell you want. I'm not gay. But I'm also not ashamed of who I am or what I do and I'm definitely not ashamed of my brother."

"You should be ashamed," Hausner said. "Gay or not-whatever the fuck you are, it's not what a quarterback should be, and frankly, it's degrading to play against you."

I felt my fist tense up, but I thought about what Puck had said. Though he wouldn't admit it, Hausner knew I was good enough to cause him problems. If he could get me out of the picture through some dirty tricks it would make his life that much easier.

"Then don't," Kurt said. "I'm sure you can come up with a plausible explanation as to why you can't play."

"As much as I'd like to, I'm not willing to give up my third perfect season. I may be talking with recruiters already, but another State title will open up even more options." He looked at me. "Any recruiters talking with you? Aside from community colleges, that is?"

I'd had about enough of his BS. I motioned to Puck, Kurt, and Blaine. "We don't need this shit. Let's go."

Blaine nodded and Kurt said, "I agree." Puck hesitated for a second, then nodded too.

We'd only walked about 15 feet when Hausner said loudly, "Smart move. If your dad had known when to call it quits maybe he'd be around today too."

I felt a chill run down my spine. I turned around slowly. "_What did you just say?_"

He smiled. "I said maybe if you're dad knew when to give up he'd still be alive."

I felt a strange mix of sadness and anger. "He was a Marine. They don't quit."

Hausner shrugged. "Something they may want to revaluate."

"You better shut up or be quiet." The anger had become rage. I felt my fists clenching up. Attacking me, attacking Kurt, even attacking Rachel—I wasn't cool with it, but I could keep my temper. This though-he was asking for it.

"The man was a fucking hero," Puck said.

"He's right," Blaine said, "Christopher Hudson gave everything he had to protect what he believed."

Hausner tried to look serious, but he couldn't hide that stupid grin. "Everyone wants to think their loved one was some gallant soldier who died in battle for the glory of the country and the preservation of freedom. But that's not how it is. Most deaths are meaningless. They don't accomplish an objective, they don't save other lives. They just happen."

"Sacrifice is never meaningless," I said. I could feel that my face was bright red. My jaw was clenched so tight it was starting to hurt.

"But it's not sacrifice, Finn. That implies some sort of conscious effort of giving one's life for the greater good. It almost never happens." He shrugged. "The fact is, your dad was some low ranking peon who was too fucking stupid to duck."

That was it. I lunged towards him. Kurt and Blaine both grabbed me, and I ended up very slowly dragging them towards Hausner. The fucker was just laughing at this. I got within about two feet of him when I felt another set of hands pulling me backwards. Puck had latched on to me too. I tried to twist sideways to loosen their grips, but it wasn't enough. I couldn't believe Puck was trying to keep me _out_ of a fight. Normally he's the one starting them.

"I don't care about the stupid game, let me go."

"I want to rip him apart as much as you do, but I'm not going to let you throw away a fucking football scholarship for some little turd," Puck said.

I looked Hausner straight in the eye and tried to lunge at him again. I only got a few more inches. "I am going to fucking DESTROY YOU! I'm a going to rip you to FUCKING SHREDS!" I yelled so loud it made my throat hurt.

"Just like bullets going through your old man, huh?"

I was still fighting against the guys, but they weren't letting up. "You are going to fucking wish you'd never met me! I will TEAR YOU APART!"

Hausner had apparently figured out he'd gotten the best reaction he could out of me. He smiled again, that fucking ugly smile of an asshole. "I'll look forward to the attempt. See you Saturday."

He walked out with his goons, and I tried to go after him but I was getting tired and the guys still weren't giving up. "YOU BETTER WATCH YOUR FUCKING BACK!" I yelled after him. I finally gave up fighting with the guys, and they let go. Everyone was breathing heavy.

I looked at Puck. "What the hell is wrong with you?"

"Dude… I _told _you. He _wants_ you to go after him."

"So we got something in common."

Puck shook his head. "It's not worth it man. I wanted to fuck him up as much as you did but—"

"Just go away."

"Finn…" Kurt said.

"Just all of you, go away. Leave me alone." I walked away and found a bench in the corner, under one of those ugly plastic trees they have. I sat down and put my face in my hands, trying to clear all this crazy stuff out of my head. It felt like I had knots in my brain or something. I just couldn't think straight. It was like a ton of emotions all at once, and by the time I knew what I was feeling I was on to the next one.

I sat there with my head swirling for a few minutes when Kurt came up next to me. I looked up at him. "I said I wanted to be alone."

"I know you well enough to tell the difference between a little funk and when something is really bothering you."

I sighed. "Whatever. I'll deal."

"The guys are getting ready to do another set," he said.

I looked down towards where we had been singing. I couldn't see it because of how the mall bends around. "I'm... I'm not sure I'm feeling it anymore," I said.

"I thought that might be the case. Don't worry, Blaine volunteered to step in."

I took a deep breath. "Tell him thanks. At least they aren't getting screwed over."

"One less thing to worry about."

"Yeah."

"You didn't do anything wrong Finn."

I looked at him. "I did _everything_ wrong."

Kurt raised his eyebrows at that but didn't say anything.

"It's like... I don't know. I guess I really should have just stayed cool. I really lost it there. But it's like, if I didn't lose it, I'd be upset right now anyway."

"Because you feel like you need a strong emotional response."

"Yeah, pretty much. If I don't get angry, then what am I? Not a good son."

Kurt sat down next to me. "He wouldn't have wanted you to sacrifice your future for his memory."

"It's not about what he wants, though. It's about what is right. What I got to do." I took another deep breath.

Kurt seemed to think about that for a while. "There are no easy answers. Kind of like Calculus."

That actually made me smile. Just a bit and only for a second. "There should be though. It's not fair-first not having someone in your life, and then needing to figure out how to remember them and live up to what they would want and all that."

"You're right. But you need to focus on the good that emerges from the shadows. Admit it; Carol and Dad make a cute couple." He laughed for a second, then his face got serious again. "And I'm a lot better off with my brother than I ever was as an only child."

I looked at him. "I guess I am too."

"Let's go get a milkshake, maybe watch the guys perform for a bit. You know, just relax."

My mind was still all over the place, but it sounded better than sitting and sulking. "Alright."

We did what Kurt said. Of course, he figured out way to drag me into a few shops before we actually got our milkshakes. I think it was more to take my mind off stuff than anything else because he never actually bought anything. We went back towards the big fountain and watched the show from behind the crowd. Afterwards, I helped the guys carry the stuff back outside. No one seemed upset I'd cut out for the second half, which might of had more to do with Blaine doing awesome than any sort of forgiveness but it didn't matter.

I headed back to my car but stopped when I felt Puck's hand on my shoulder. "That toolbag deserves a serious beat-down."

"I know," I said. "Kind of late for that now," I said, sounding more than a little annoyed.

"Hey, I'm watching your back dude. But I feel you. You think I didn't want to wipe that smug little grin off his face? I'm with you on this. Really."

"You weren't half an hour ago."

Puck snorted. "Get over it. I'm the guy who's always getting into trouble, and when I finally stop a fight look at the crap I get."

I sighed. "Sorry." I wasn't sure if he was right or not-I still felt like giving Hausner a black eye... a broken jaw... some cracked ribs... a dislocated shoulder... and that kind of stuff would have been the right move-but I got what he was saying.

"Don't go thinking I'm going soft or some crap like that. I just know what they wanted, and I didn't want them to get it."

"Yeah, it's just—"

"It's about making him suffer long term. We'll show him who's the fucking boss this weekend," Puck said. Then he smiled, the kind of evil smile he gets when he's plotting something, well, evil. "And of course, once the season is over…"

I watched him walk away into the dark and smiled. Even with what he did in the mall, it was the same old Puck. Some things never change.

**Thanks for reading. Reviews are appreciated and encouraged!**


	12. Tea for Two

**A/N: Here it is, a nothing but Finchell chapter. It had to happen eventually; I hope you enjoy! Thanks for all subscriptions and reviews!**

I'd told Rachel I'd meet up with her after the mall concert thing. After all, we needed to figure out exactly what we were going to be doing at rehearsal Thursday. Really I wanted to go home, maybe take a nap, and then finish up the HW, but I'd made her a promise that I was going to have to live with.

Rach answered the door and led me up to her room. I stretched out sideways across her bed, kind of hanging over either side. It wasn't that comfortable, which was a good thing because I was suddenly feeling really tired and it helped make sure I didn't go to sleep. Rach sat down next to me.

"So did you decide what we are going to do?" I asked.

Rachel ignored that. "Kurt told me what happened today."

I frowned for a second. I did _not _want to talk about the Hausner stuff again. I'd already had Kurt 'coach me through it' and, as much as a I love Rachel, I didn't need her opinion too. Of course, If I could side track her by making it about something else... "It was totally for show," I said. "It's the kind of song you need to mix it up with the crowd and stuff. I'm not actually into any of those girls."

"That isn't what I was talking about." She smiled. "Though it is endearing that you worry about things like that."

"Endearing?"

"Very much so."

"No, I was asking what it means." Ok, I sort of had an idea, but the more I played dumb the longer I could keep her talking about that stuff we wouldn't need to get into the whole thing with the Marion guys.

"Endearing means—" Her eyes narrowed a bit. "You know what it means. I've heard you say it."

I smiled. "I say things I don't understand all the time."

She thought that was funny. "It means nice, appealing, polite…" She reached her arm around my shoulders and smiled. "In a very romantic way. But stop trying to distract me. I want to talk about what happened with the boys from the other school." So the delaying strategy got me about thirty seconds. Sometimes I hate that Rachel can read me so well. She is like one of three people that can tell the difference between when I'm playing dumb and, well, being dumb. Still, it was worth a try.

"It wasn't anything."

"That's not what Kurt said. I know it was rough on you, and I want to make sure you're ok."

"I'm fine. Really."

Her smile went away. "Don't lie to me. I can tell when something is bothering you."

"I think I can tell better than you can if something is bothering me." Technically that _is_ true.

"I can hear the stress in your voice. I see how tired you are. You've been here for ten minutes and other than at the door, you haven't hugged me, you haven't kissed me, you haven't made any sign of affection. I just wrapped my arm around you and you sat there like a limp dishrag".

"I don't know… Kurt starches our dish rag."

"Finn…"

"Only when we're expecting company. He's say it makes it more presentable to guests."

"Finn!"

"I don't think any visitors have noticed".

"Stop being evasive."

I rolled away from her. "Stop telling me what I'm supposed to talk about."

She sighed like she was getting frustrated, which I thought was kind of messed up because I was the one who was supposed to be frustrated. "I want to help."

"I don't need help." I couldn't help but think she _never_ takes no for an answer.

She put her hand back on my shoulder. "I know discussing things related to your father can be difficult for you."

I pulled away. "Kurt told you it was about my dad?"

"He said the other guy was talking about a lot of things; Kurt didn't really get into that. But he told me what he said about your dad, and how much it hurt you." She waited for me to say something but I didn't, so she kept talking. "I really care… you need to trust me, Finn. Open up. It's OK to admit you are hurting. I can see that you are. Don't try to repress your feelings, _express _them."

I felt very sad all of a sudden, kind of like the emotions I'd been trying to ignore all came back. I'd finally managed to push all this stuff aside and she just has to come and dig it up again. "You have no idea what it's like. Don't even pretend you do."

"You're right, I don't," she said, "so tell me."

I sighed. "It's not the kind of thing you can just explain."

"Try."

I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. "It's… he's not here anymore, Rach. I'm all there is. I'm all of him that's left. So it's… it's my job to make sure no one goes after his memory. It's what I got to do."

Rachel nodded. "That's very honorable of you Finn. But he wouldn't want you throwing away your future because some failure of a human being was attacking his legacy."

"You don't know what he would have wanted," I shot back sounding a bit more pissed off than I meant to.

Rachel didn't seem to notice. "You said it yourself: You're all of him that's left. You owe it to him to take care of yourself."

"I know… But he was…" I shook my head. Why did she need to bring this up? Suddenly my head was swimming again. "I don't know Rach, I just… I'm so confused right now. I'm really pissed that I just lost it… I mean, you know, that's not me. But it's like if I didn't get angry, that would be wrong too. I'd feel like crap if I didn't do everything I could to, you know, stand up for him. Kurt said if I didn't get emotional it would make me feel like I was losing what I had left of him. I think he's right."

"I understand. But you can't risk something important for you to do it."

"Why not? Why shouldn't I?" I said as I got up off the bed. "He gave everything he had for people he didn't know. I think it's totally fair I sacrifice something for my own father."

"He didn't just die for his country," Rachel said. She got up to, though a lot slower. "He gave his life so that you could have a future. You don't want to risk something like a football scholarship over what one idiot says."

"Well, I didn't. I didn't do a damn thing. I just stood there like an idiot while Hausner kept going after him." I realized had raised my voice and took a deep breath.

She actually smiled. Just a little bit. "From what I heard, you didn't _just_ stand there. It took all three of them to hold you back. And Kurt wouldn't repeat exactly what you said, but apparently you had parents covering their children's ears." Add swearing in front of little kids in the mall to the list of fuck-ups for the day.

"I know I shouldn't have let him get to me like that. Like I said, I'm not happy with what I did. But if I didn't do something… It's not just about what I should do or what he wants. It's about what's right. What he deserves."

"He deserves to be here watching his son grow up." I don't know why, but I got chills when Rachel said that. "It's that simple Finn. If it were a perfect world, where everything was about what's right, he'd be here. But like _you_ told _me_, the world isn't perfect. We need to do the best with what we have." She wrapped her arms around me. "And Finn, you can do _so much_."

I put my head down on her shoulder and just held her for a minute. It felt good just to be there with her. "You're right."

"You can't give him what he deserves, no one can. And if you keep trying you're just going to keep hurting yourself." She pushed my head off her shoulder so she could look me in the eyes. "But you can still give him what he dreamed of."

"What do you think he dreamed of?" I asked.

"A son who is a good man, who helps others, who is a leader, who makes a difference for the better."

"That's who I've always wanted to be," I said.

"That's who you are. And more." She wrapped her arms around me again, and we stood there for several seconds.

"I love you."

"I love you too." She let go of me and sat back down on the bed. "Was I right?"

"Huh?" I should just start saying yes automatically. So many less fights that way.

"Do you feel better?"

I kind of did. I mean, Rachel really had made an awesome point. Hausner was trying to trap me, and the fact I didn't get caught in it didn't make me a bad son or anything. I hadn't done anything to dishonor my dad. Still, that didn't make the whole thing go away-I was still going to get back at him-but it would be on my terms, not his. In a way that didn't hurt my dreams-or my dad's.

"I... ah... yeah. A little."

"So I was right. Talking helped."

"Yeah."

"Remember that Finn. Don't fight me so hard."

I sighed. "I wasn't trying to fight you, I just don't like to, you know, talk about this stuff."

"Just because you don't like something doesn't mean you shouldn't do it."

"I'll try to remember that next time." When I said that I wasn't thinking next time was going to happen so soon.

"Please Finn. I love you. All I ever want to do is help you." She paused for several seconds, and her face got more serious. "Are you ready to do some work?"

I nodded.

"I've made a decision for our song tomorrow." She smiled.

"And?"

"And we'll be doing 'All I Ask of You' from Andrew Lloyd Webber's 1986 classic _The Phantom of the Opera_."

"That's the one about the guy with the face, right?"

"If you're referring to the disfigured title character, than yes. I see the story as having some strong parallels to our own lives. It is the tale of a girl who is torn between the man that she truly loves and a man who puts extraordinary pressure on her to be with him."

"Wait… Rachel… who's the other guy?"

"No, Finn. You're the young girl."

"I'm the what?"

"The girl. Christine."

I gave her a weird look. "I don't get it."

"Christine is under enormous pressure to be with the Phantom. He's been her mentor, taught her how to sing, how to be a star."

"Oh! Like you did with me."

Rachel shook her head. "No, I'm the other suitor. The one of true love. The Phantom controls all that happens within the Opera, and thus has a hold over her. Defying him is to risk one's life. He uses his relationship and his power to manipulate her, and for a while it seems she lacks the strength to resist."

I was starting to see where she was going. That didn't make it any less weird. "OK… So I'm the girl, you're the guy, and are you… you're saying Quinn is the Phantom?"

"It's not an exact perfect correlation to our situation, but yes. The Phantom used his powers over the opera and Christine's desire to improve her voice to put pressure on her to be with him. Quinn used her social status in the school and your need to be popular and maintain an image to manipulate you."

"That's not exactly right, Rach."

"There are some differences. For instance, Quinn doesn't live in the catacombs underneath the stage."

"That's not what I meant." I'm not going to say that Quinn has anything on Rachel, but it wasn't like our relationship was totally about status and image and stuff. That was part of it, yeah, but there was more to it. It kind of hurt that Rachel would think I was that shallow, even back then. "It kind of bugs me when you act like the only reason I cared about Quinn was because I wanted to be popular."

"I don't doubt that you had sincere feelings for her at one time—or at least thought you did-but it always seemed to me that she was more concerned with dating the quarterback than dating Finn Hudson."

"That was part of it, yeah. She used me more than once. But it wasn't like that was all there was to it. Not for either of us. You don't need to put her down like that."

"I'm just conveying the observations I made. It was in no way an attempt to question the validity of your former relationship or to imply anything negative about Quinn."

I smiled at her. "Because you would _never_ bash somebody else in order to make yourself look better."

"Occasionally I'll point out others faults in order to help them improve themselves—"

"Come on Rach. Don't pretend taking shots at Quinn right now is somehow making things better for anyone."

"I think I know what I meant better than you."

I moved next to her and wrapped my arm around her. "I know the way you think and whatever else you said before." It's fun when you get to wipe the tables on somebody. It's not something that happens too often with Rachel.

"Very amusing Finn." She tried to wiggle away from me but I didn't let her.

"It works both ways. I know you always want to look better than the competition."

She rolled her eyes. "Your perspicacity is certainly impressive."

I felt my face turn red. "That's why I started using that new deodorant," I said quietly.

Rachel pulled away again and give me a really weird look. "Why would you bring that up? Especially when we're being intimate?" I have a girlfriend who calls lying next to each other, fully clothed and on top of the covers, being intimate.

"You're the one who brought it up."

"I did-Finn, the word is perspicacity, not perspiration." Seriously, could you get any closer?

"Oh, I thought you meant—"

"I know what you thought." She stood up and walked over to her dresser where her iPod was sitting in some sort of pink, jewel-covered dock. "Let me play this for you. You really need to hear it to understand the emotion and passion in this song."

I stood up and walked over to Rachel. She pressed play, then slid up against me. She leaned her head against my shoulder and closed her eyes as we listened. The song was pretty much what I had expected. It wasn't the kind of thing I'd really be able to get into, but at least the male line didn't have too many crazy high or low notes and seemed pretty simple. Still, I kind of wondered how well it would work for my voice. The female part went really high, but I was pretty sure it was still in Rachel's range.

"What did you think?" she asked as the last notes faded out.

"It's, uh, good… I guess."

"You don't sound as enthusiastic as you did before."

"I didn't say I didn't want to do it."

Rachel stepped away and turned around so we were facing each other. "I never suggested you were trying to get out of it." She frowned. "Though the fact that you are so defensive seems to imply you're not fully onboard with the performance."

I got to be honest, this was starting to piss me off. I said I wanted to do it, I was there to do it, I'd listened to it and hadn't left or anything, and now she was still not happy. It wasn't like I was even saying it was a bad song or anything-it just didn't fit well with what I was comfortable doing, but that didn't mean I wasn't going to try my best. I always did, for Broadway, for Gaga, more or less for Dancing Queen-and I'd gotten by so far.

"I want you to share in the experience, not just do the song," Rachel continued. "Doing a musical-a _real_ musical-is about the passion and the majesty. There a splendor that permeates the entire performance. The songs alone can make an audience think they are sitting in a magnificent theater on Broadway or the West End. It is a form of music like no other."

"I'll do the best I can, but I don't feel this stuff the way you do."

She frowned again. "You can't feel it because your mind is closed."

"My mind is wide open."

"You're still tense from everything. Let's try something else. I'll be right back."

She was out the door before I could say anything. I looked at my phone and saw it was already 8:45. I hadn't gotten any homework done yet, so I knew it was going to be another late night. At least the only things I had Thursday were glee and football practice, so I'd probably have some time to catch up on things. But I did have Spanish in the morning, and I'd already dropped the ball once in there. That stuff had to be done.

After a couple minutes I started wondering where she went. I also started wondering if there was something I should be doing. It's not everyday that you get to be alone in your girlfriends room, but I didn't have any really great ideas and I had no idea when she was coming back so I just hung out.

A few minutes later she came back with a tray and a couple of microscopic tea cups. She put it on the bed and motioned for me to sit down next to her. I did, but that wasn't right.

"No cross-legged... careful, don't knock the cups over." She waited for me to get settled. "It's an herbal cinnamon blend. We're going to try something Kurt showed me called Energy Tea Meditation."

"This isn't his fuck shoe stuff or whatever?"

Rachel gave me a really nasty look. "It's called feng shui."

"Oh... sorry."

"It has its roots in eastern cultures as well, but it is fundamentally different. The goal here is to take the heat energy stored in the tea and use it to soothe yourself."

"OK." I reached for the cup but she pushed my hand away.

"Not yet. First, you need to clear your mind. Steady your breathing and relax." She waited a few seconds. "Alright, now reach out with one hand and grasp the handle of the cup."

"OK." This time she let me pick up the cup.

"Don't drink yet. Follow my lead. With your other hand, cover the cup." I did what she said. "Feel the warmth radiating from the tea. Let the warmth flow through your hands, into your arms, through your chest and the rest of your body." It was like she was reading from a script or something, but if it was she had it memorized. She was looking down at her cup but her eyes were closed and she was breathing slowly. "Do you feel the warmth radiating through you?"

"Not really, just my palm."

I guess that was good enough because she kept going. "Slowly, keeping the tea covered, lift it towards your lips. Remove your hand, but don't drink." I did what she said. "Now, hold it just below your nose and take a deep breath. Let the warmth and energy fill your lungs."

"It smells good."

She gave me a look like I wasn't supposed to have said that. "Now bring the cup to your lips, and take a sip."

I drank some of the tea. I'm not huge on tea, but the cinnamon made it pretty sweet so it was actually pretty good.

"No! Finn! You're not supposed to swallow it yet!"

"But-"

"I said to sip it." She pointed at my cup. I started to roll my eyes but caught myself. Unlike Rachel, I'm not allowed to roll my eyes. Seriously though, in what world does sip mean _not_ to drink something? "You're supposed to sip, little by little, and savor each taste. You've already drank half the cup."

"It's a really small cup," I said. Somehow I was not feeling less stressed.

"You don't need a big cup because you are supposed to drink it _slowly._" She took a deep breath. "Ok, let's try it again. Take a small sip, and roll it around in your mouth for several seconds. Feel the warmth... now swallow, and let the energy run down your throat into your stomach and spread out from there. Now take another deep breath. How do you feel?"

" It's too complicated to be relaxing." I finished the tea and put the cup back on the tray. "You make really good tea though."

"This is exactly what I meant about you not being open minded."

"Hey, I _tried_ it. This kind of stuff doesn't work for me. Ask Kurt."

Rachel rolled her eyes. "The fundamental principles of meditation are applicable to everyone. You're just not doing them right."

"Are you going to finish your tea?" I asked. She rolled her eyes again and handed it to me. After I finished it (and let the energy run down my throat) she grabbed it from me and put the whole tray on her dresser. I stretched out on the bed and motioned for her to come lay next to me. She grabbed a remote off her dresser and curled up next to me.

"That wasn't as helpful as I had anticipated."

I reached my arm around her. "The tea was good and stuff, but all I need to relax is you."

She put her hands on my neck and started to massage me, working outwards towards my shoulders. "How does that feel?"

"Oh, it's good."

"Good. Now that you're in the right state of mind, let's try this again." She pressed a button on the remote, and we we're back on Broadway. But I didn't really care what she was playing as long as she kept rubbing my shoulders.. and neck... and ears... and...

A couple minutes later, the song faded out. Rachel sat up and looked down at me. "How was that?"

I smiled. "Awesome."

She smiled. "I mean the song."

"Yeah, the song."

"Are you ready to rehearse?"

I propped myself up with her pillow. I'd been hoping she'd be in the mood to 'relax' a little bit longer, but you kind of take what you can get with Rachel. I nodded to her and she handed me a copy of the lyrics. We got about twenty seconds into it before she paused the music.

"You need to more depth to your voice, this is _theater_."

"I'm trying Rach, really. This isn't my thing."

Rachel took a deep breath. "I'm sorry, I don't mean to be so pushy. I'm just passionate about this music and I want you to sound your best." She pulled her phone out and looked at it. "It's already past 9."

I knew what that meant. Rachel's dads didn't like company over late on a schoolnight. It wasn't a hard curfew thing, but when 9 rolled around you could tell they wanted you out.

"Yeah. I guess I should get out of here."

"We'll need to rehearse tomorrow during the day."

"I don't know when... are schedules are like total opposites. An even if we could do lunch or something, I got an interview with Martin for the paper."

"An interview?"

"Yeah... listen, I'll talk to Mr. Schue in the morning. I'll explain how we got all distracted by this Hausner thing and he'll probably let us move to Friday."

"He'll understand."

We walked downstairs together and stopped at the front door. I gave her a hug and quick kiss. "I'll pull up the song on youtube or something tonight and listen to it again."

"That's a good idea."

"Have a goodnight." I gave her another hug.

"You too Finn."

I took a few steps outside, then turned around "Oh, and thanks Rachel."

"For what?"

I shrugged. "Everything."


	13. Found Out About Sue

**A/N: As the show evolves, some minor A/U things start to show up. I'm still trying to keep it close to the actual show, and where it fits the story I'll make small changes to reflect S3 developments (e.g. Blaine moving to McKinley), but in some cases we are just going to plow ahead (e.g. Sam has too big of role to be dropped now). Hope you enjoy!**

It had taken a couple hours to finish up homework and stuff, and it had been hell. I was so freaking tired-Rachel's pep talk had made me feel a lot better, but I was still worn out from everything. On top of the whole Hausner thing I had been in school all day, and football practice might have been short but the way Coach Bieste runs things that doesn't really matter. So yeah, I slept pretty good that night.

The next morning Mom had planned to cook something special for breakfast, but she forgot I had to go in early so that didn't work out. She said she'd do it next week instead, but Burt was still not happy that he was missing out on his first chance to have bacon in like two months. Mom's real careful about what he eats, which I'm totally on board with, I just wish that it didn't mean that I ended up getting that stuff too. The whole 'couldn't you cook two different meals' convo never goes over to well. Maybe it would be better if I had a brother that would back me up instead of saying he's cool with eating flavored chalk or whatever tofu is made out of.

Anyway, Mr. Schue was in a good mood that morning. He seemed happy to see me. We had a few more kids in detention this morning, so about half the seats in the room were filled when I got there. It wasn't like it mattered or anything; they all sit in the back and I sit up front near Mr. Schue.

"No donuts this morning?" I asked.

"Sorry Finn. I was running late."

"It's cool Mr. Schue. I'll just hit up the vending machine before first period." Of course, the stuff in the vending machine isn't always great for breakfast, but we've kind of experimented over the years cause the cafeteria doesn't actually serve breakfast in the morning-just drinks. If you put Animal Crackers in a bowl of milk it actually makes a pretty good cereal. Doritos-not so much.

"Mr. Schue, I had a favor to ask," I said. He nodded at me. "You see, some stuff came up yesterday night, and Rachel and I didn't really get the time to rehearse we needed. I was sorta wondering if we could go on Friday instead of today?"

"I don't see that as being a problem for us, though didn't you tell me that Coach Bieste wanted you at practice right after school Friday?"

Crap. I'd forgotten about that. The night before the game she said no glee rehearsal. "Um, yeah... she did." I looked around the room for a few seconds, trying to think of something. "I might need another favor."

"Let me guess: You need to cut rehearsal today."

"Yeah...I mean, if I can, you know, get out of there early enough Coach Bieste might let me take ten or fifteen minutes tomorrow."

"I was planning to rehearse the Dylan song today," Mr. Schue said. "I need you for that."

"Come on Mr. Schue, we don't perform until Tuesday. If we run through it all once or twice today and do it on Monday we should be good. It's not like it's for competition or something."

Mr. Schue frowned at that last thing I said. "We need to treat every performance like a competition. You can't get lazy or write-off an event simply because it isn't officially a step on the road to Nationals. You need to maintain a certain level of integrity as a performer."

"I didn't mean it like that..."

"I'm not sure what else you could mean," Mr. Schue said.

I didn't want him to think I wasn't going to give 110% or anything, I was just trying to think of ways I could live up to all the promises I'd made. There were just too many people expecting too many different things from me. "Sorry, it's just-you know I take performances seriously, but I got so much going on and I don't know how I'm going to make everyone happy."

"You overcommitted yourself."

"Yeah—that thing—overcommitted."

"Unfortunately, that isn't something I can help you with Finn. You are going to run into situations where you can't fulfill all the promises you've made, and that leads to hard choices. You're probably going to have that problem more than most; you don't like admitting your own limits."

"Yeah, but I should have been able to make this work if we'd been able to rehearse last night but the thing at the mall kind of messed up the whole flow of stuff."

"What thing at the mall?" Mr. Schue asked.

I originally didn't want to tell him more than I had to. I'd already talked stuff over with Kurt and Rachel. But Mr. Schue has a way of kind of drawing you out and making you want to talk, so we ended up going through the whole thing. How Hausner had shown up and made fun of me and Rachel and the team. How he'd gone after my dad and I lost it. How Puck thought he was trying to get me suspended from the team. We also talked about talking about stuff with Kurt and Rachel. Mr. Schue agreed with them, but he understood why I freaked like I did.

"It must have been painful," Mr. Schue said. "I know what it takes to get you riled up. Throwing punches and swearing isn't something I normally associate with you."

"I try not to associate it with me," I said, "but Hausner—he just got to me."

"Had I been in your shoes, I might have done the same thing."

"Yeah, right." I've seen Mr. Schue get pretty upset, but never totally lose it. I couldn't really imagine him throwing punches and stuff.

"I have the same thoughts everyone does when I'm really upset. I just have learned not moderate them and not act on violent urges or say things that are inappropriate. Especially in class, there is a limit to what I can let students see. I try to be open and honest, but I have professional responsibilities to consider. Even then, I'm not always successful, but with experience you learn to better control frustration and anger. Do you understand?"

"I get it. You need to have desecration about stuff."

"I need to have discretion," he said. "As in good judgment."

"Yeah that's what I meant."

Mr. Schue smiled. "I hope so." The smile disappeared and the confused look came back. "There is one thing I don't understand."

"Yeah?"

"How did he know so much about you?"

"You do intel on the key players you're up against. We do it."

"I know that. But that's to find out about their playing style, or maybe just a bit of personal information to psych them out. Not the kind of details Jake Hausner had. Where did he get that information?"

"I guess from the school paper and stuff. Talking to people. Stuff like that." How the hell should I know?

"From what you said it seemed like he was a lot more informed than someone who read a few articles in the paper."

He was right. And if some strange dude was snooping around for dirt on me and talking to lots of people, I think someone would have mentioned it to me. "I don't know then."

"It is as if someone compiled all this information about you and just gave it to him."

"You mean like if someone wrote an autobiography about me?"

"Finn, an autobiography is…" He stopped talking and looked across the room at nothing in particular. "An autobiography of sorts might be exactly what he had."

"Who wrote it?" I asked.

"I need to check something out, before the start of class." He looked at the clock on the wall, then at the kids in the back of the room and sighed. "Alright guys, listen up. I have some unplanned work I need to take care of, so that means you all are free to go. Those of you that have detention tomorrow, plan on being here the normal time."

"So the whole choreography thing is off for now?"

"We'll need to work on that later. Sorry, Finn." He was already packing up his stuff.

"S'okay." He didn't really need to apologize. Seriously-trying to work out choreography in front of a bunch of detention kids was not high on my list of things to do. Dancing with a teacher in front of guys who _liked_ to pick on people wasn't exactly going to make life any easier, even if I could keep up with Mr. Schue.

With Mr. Schue gone and detention over, I wandered around for a couple minutes to see if there was anything in the vending machines and then went to Mr. Foster's class. I figured I might as well try and get things going well by getting there early, even if my homework was only partly done. And partly right.

About a third of the class was there, and Mr. Foster walked in a few seconds after me but didn't say anything to anyone. The bell rang, and after a few morning announcements Mr. Foster started assigning problems to put on the board.

"Mr. Taylor, number two, Mr. Phipps, number four, Mr. Hudson, number six..." You get the idea. I went up to the board and starred at it for a few seconds but wasn't sure exactly what to do. Problem six was one I skipped. "Is there a problem?" Mr. Foster asked.

"I kind of got stuck on number five so I didn't have time to-" I stopped when Mr. Foster put up his hands.

"Finn, I'm getting really tired of you thinking that homework is somehow optional."

"It's not that, I just don't always get around to doing it. This stuff is hard."

Mr. Foster was starting to turn red. "It is always hard when you're not trying! You need to put in the effort until it becomes easy." He made a coughing noise and pulled a big marker out of his pocket. "Look, all you need to do is set the equation equal to 39, and solve. Same as we've been doing for three weeks."

"I get what you're going for but not really."

" You should be able to do this in your sleep by now."

"I know, I'm trying and everything, but it's just not my thing."

"Then let's try making a problem that is more you're style.," he said. He actually sounded kind of nice for a change, like he was interested in helping me understand something instead of pissed I didn't get it. He drew a big rectangle on the board with a stick figure on top of it. "Let's assume you're on top of the Chase Building in downtown."

"Um... ok..." I didn't see how this was my style, but I knew it wasn't a good time to bring that up.

"That building is fourteen stories tall. We'll assume four meters per story. So how tall is the building?"

"That's, uh..." Why couldn't he have found a building that was like ten floors or something easy like that?

"This is the third grade part of the question Finn," Mr. Foster said, sounding annoyed again.

"Uh, it's like..." I reached into my bag and pulled out my calculator, but before I got the cover off Mr. Foster was moving on.

"56 meters." He wrote that on the board just in case someone didn't hear him. "Let's say that you are going to throw a football upward at 20 meters per second."

"How fast is that?" I asked. I didn't want to be getting short changed here.

"It's 20 meters per second," Mr. Foster said with a smirk.

"I know, but what about in real numbers?"

He smile again. "On mile per hour equals 0.447 meters per second. You do the math."

I plugged it into my calculator and got an answer that seemed kind of low. "8.94 miles an hour? You think I throw 9 miles an hour?"

"The conversion factor was for going from miles per hour to meters per second. You need to use the inverse of .447."

".744?"

He slapped his forehead. "It's just under 45 miles per hour."

"That sounds better."

"So now that you've thrown the ball, I want to know how long it will take for it to hit the ground." He turned back to the board. "So we are solving for _t_. Time. First we need to account for gravity, which means using the gravitational constant off..." Somewhere around there I spaced out. I didn't mean to, it just sort of happened.

Before he finished explaining everything, the phone in the front of the room rang. After saying a couple of things I couldn't hear, he hung up and looked right at me. "You really have a knack for getting out of my class," he said.

"What?"

"Principal's office. They want you."

"Now?"

"No, check with your appointment secretary and have her call back with a tentative date."

I was pretty sure he was being sarcastic because I don't have an appointment secretary. I got up, tossed my books back in my bag and walked out. When I got to the front office, Ms. Pillsbury was standing outside. I could see Mr. Schue and Principal Figgins talking about something, but the door was closed and I couldn't hear them.

Ms. Pillsbury stepped out of the office. "Good morning Finn."

"Good morning. Umm... what's going on?"

Ms. Pillsbury looked like she was upset, by trying very hard not to show it. "It seems there may have been a problem with your student records."

"What kind of problem?"

"We really need to talk to another person to figure that out. She was supposed to be here already." Ms. Pillsbury looked towards the office, then back at me. "Why don't you wait here and make yourself comfortable. I'm going to go inside and discuss things and we'll call for you in a few minutes, ok?"

I nodded. I was trying to figure out what was up. I'm not really that great at reading people, but Ms. Pillsbury was definitely sad, maybe even angry or worried. Actually, nobody looked happy in there. A couple minutes later Ms. Sylvester walked past. Before she went into the office she gave me a look that really creeped me out. It looked kinda like the mugshot of that sketch they had on the news of the crazy lady who keeps shaving random people's cats for fun. She slammed the door behind her so hard it bounced back open a few inches.

"William, why is it that whenever I get a call to come up here it is always some worthless distraction involving one of your mangy glee kids," Ms. Sylvester said. Between the fact the door was open and she was really loud it was pretty easy to tell what she was saying.

"If you weren't constantly meddling with a club that has _nothing to do with you_-"

"Sue, Schue, please. Let us discuss the situation at hand in a _civil manner_," Principal Figgins said. He looked at Mr. Schue. "You have made a very serious allegation regarding Sue's conduct. Would you please explain your concerns."

"I already discussed with Sue what she did, though unsurprisingly she denies any knowledge of the situation."

"I know that reality sometimes has a hard time penetrating that wall of hair gel, but let me see. I run the largest cheerleading program in Western Ohio. I'm a prominent local figure and regular contributor on the local news. I simply don't have the time or the interest to get involved in some sort of petty scheme to discredit one of your students."

"The evidence is very clear," Mr. Schue said.

"And entirely circumstantial," Ms. Sylvester added.

Mr. Schue took a big folder from Ms. Pillsbury. "This is Finn's guidance and counseling record." He put it on Principal Figgins desk. "Thirty-six pages."

"So far all you've established at that this student has an unusually large amount of problems."

I was really tempted to go in there and say something, but I knew I wasn't even supposed to be hearing this. Going in there could make things really bad really fast.

Mr. Schue just ignored her. "This is a fax report from the Cheerios fax machine. Monday night someone sent a thirty-seven page fax to a Staples in Marion."

"By your own admission the student record in question is one page shorter than the fax that was sent," Ms. Sylvester said. "Your logic has more holes than the windows of a Detroit convenience store."

"You added a cover page!" Mr. Schue said. "You sent out a student's personal record so that another student could better ridicule him. It's unconscionable"

"Is this true? This represents a serious breach of professional ethics," Principal Figgins.

"You make it sound like those records are confidential."

"They _are_ confidential!" Mr. Schue said.

"And kept in a locked cabinet," Ms. Pillsbury added.

"I thought it was jammed."

Mr. Schue was starting to get red. "Do you even begin to comprehend how immoral this is? This isn't a simple case of putting dirt in a locker or breaking a piano, this is a student's personal information you're playing games with."

"I take offense at the notion that this is somehow a game. It is our responsibility to make sure a student learns a lesson. Unlike you, I don't get so enamored with individual students that I lose sight of their dispensary needs. I know the nuisance that boy is and someone had to demonstrate that his embarrassing behavior and insubordination has negative repercussions."

"First of all, the only reason you consider him a nuisance is because he's in glee club. Second, who are you to make the determination of what punishment is appropriate? Third, what kind of educator-what kind of person tries to teach a lesson by actively getting one student to bully and harass another?" Mr. Schuster's voice kept getting louder the whole time he was talking, and since he started pretty loud he was almost yelling at the end.

Principal Figgins put up his hands. "Sue, whatever your motives you have made serious professional ethics violations and opened our school to potential legal action. We could be sued."

"Have I ever let the threat of a lawsuit impede my responsibilities as an educator?"

"The reason for the lawsuit is your failure as an educator," Mr. Schue said. "You are _directly_ responsible for a conflict that almost escalated to physical violence. Do you realize what it could have cost him?"

"I don't believe in hypotheticals Will."

"Finn is trying to get a football scholarship. He'd be the first McKinely student to do that since I've been teaching here. You get him sidelined for disciplinary reasons, and whatever hope he has for that is gone."

"Let me lay some truth on you that is colder, harder, and less comfortable than an ice cube jammed in your anus." Ms. Sylvester said. "No one gets a football scholarship at McKinley, and whether you're trying to make yourself popular with your kids by feeding them the delusions, or you're just out of touch yourself, you have no right to make children believe in the impossible."'

"Our football team has had two winning years, in no small part due to Finn's leadership. You really think that's not worth being hopeful about?"

"Have there been any scouts out there?"

"I wouldn't-"

"Has your gorilla friend said he has a chance?"

"We haven't-"

"Do you think two years of dumb luck against a string of mediocre teams is going to change anyone's mind about what the whole world has come to know as a losing football program?"

"I don't-"

"So why do you perpetuate this idea that somehow he's getting a scholarship? By your own admission you know nothing about what's going on!"

Turns out she was pretty much right about how that truth felt.

"Because I believe in him," Mr. Schue said. "You see Sue, that's a fundamental difference between us. You believe only in what's been done. I believe in what can be achieved."

She smiled. "I believe in achievement, but only for winners. And I'm sorry to say, most of the students in the school are not winners. And when I see you lying to them about what they are, it falls to me to make them realize their place."

"I spend years of my life trying to develop an understanding and trust with students, and you feel you can come in and tear that apart simply because they don't fit this twisted image of a winner you have?"

"I've never found trust to be an important part of the student teacher relationship." She stood up. "Listen Will, as much as I'd love to debate the finer points of instructional techniques with you I simply don't want to. In fact, this entire meeting has become a colossal waste of my time." She turned towards the door. I looked away so she couldn't see I'd been watching everything.

"Sue," Principal Figgins said, "we need to determine a course of action to resolve this situation."

"You do that." She walked out and slammed the door, and stormed off.

The door actually shut this time, so I couldn't hear anything but some mumbling. There was some arm waving, and Mr. Schue looked about as mad as I've ever seen him. After about five minutes, Ms. Pillsbury opened the door and motioned for me to come in.

Principal Figgins smiled at me. "Finn! How are you doing? Ready for the big game?"

"Yeah... I mean, as much as we can be."

"I don't always get the chance to tell you how happy it makes me to see you leading our team to so many victories." Principal Figgins was being really nice to me. I thought it was sort of strange to be talking about how good I am at football after everything Ms. Sylvester had said. Maybe the really didn't agree with her. Or maybe Principal Figgins just wanted me to be in a good mood when he broke the bad news.

"Uh, thanks. It's the whole team. And Coach Bieste."

"Of course, but don't underestimate you're contributions."

Mr. Schue stepped forward. "Maybe we should discuss why you asked Finn to come here."

Principal Figgin's smile faded away. "Finn-it seems that there was a mistake made regarding your guidance and counseling file."

"Like what?" I already knew what he was going to say, but I didn't want him to know that I'd been listening in on their conversation before. Any of it.

"A member of the faculty released counseling records about you to students from another school."

Even though I'd pretty much figured that out, it still felt like getting hit with a sack of bricks when Principal Figgins said that. "All of them?" I asked.

"I'm so sorry..." Ms. Pillsbury said. She was trying not to cry.

Mr. Schue put her arm around her. "It's not your fault Emma."

"I try so hard to help students, and then something like this happens. I should have been more careful."

"You didn't know Ms. Sylvester was going to go all burglar-ish," I said.

Figgins looked surprised. "I never told you it was Coach Sylvester."

"I-uh—um-was just sitting out there," I said, pointing. It wasn't like it was a bit stretch that I'd figured out what was going on just because I saw her storming in and out. And Ms. Pillsbury had mentioned another person. Still, I could feel my face turning red.

"She could have been here on unrelated business," Principal Figgins said.

"But she wasn't," Mr. Schue said. He was still angry. "If she has no regard for Finn's privacy, then I don't see any need to respect hers."

Principal Figgins frowned. "William, it is inappropriate to speak about another faculty member like that in front of a student."

Mr. Schue took a deep breath. "You're right." That was the kind of desecration we were talking about earlier.

"However, seeing as the cat has now exited the bag, I believe it is appropriate to discuss the situation openly." Figgins looked at me. "I want you to understand that the school in no way condones or supports the actions of Ms. Sylvester and I fully intend to take action, which will include efforts to retrieve any documents and a written apology by Ms. Sylvester. I also intend to form a staff review panel to investigate the situation and determine if any other penalty is warranted."

I was kind of floored. A written apology _from a teacher_? Really? I'd never heard of anything like that.

"I also feel it is important to notify your parents as quickly as possible," Principal Figgins continued. "I'd like them to be aware of the situation to avoid any semblance of impropriety."

"Any what?"

"He wants your parents to know what is going on," Mr. Schue said. "This is a serious situation, and it is his job to make sure the school handles things well."

"Thank you Schue." Principal looked at me and asked for a phone number. I gave him my Mom's cell, but no one answered. Next I gave him Burt's shop number, and he picked up on the second ring. Principal Figgins put it on speaker.

"Mr. Hummel, this is Principal Figgins at William McKinley High School. I hope this isn't a bad time to talk."

"I was just about to put the carburetor back on a '69 Camaro, but it's not going anywhere. What can I do for you?"

"I'm afraid I have some bad news. It seems due to the poor judgment of a faculty member, some of your son's personal information has been released."

"What the hell do you mean personal information has been released?"

"It seems that one of our faculty provided counseling information to students from another school."

"To other students?" Burt yelled. "What the hell is wrong with you people!"

"Mr. Hummel, I assure you the school neither supported nor condones these actions."

"You damn well better not support them. Your school hasn't always been there when he needed you, but this is unbelievable. To release documents like this? And for a gay student, someone who already has hard enough time fitting with without you giving his innermost thoughts to bigots and bullies... I just don't have the words..."

I opened my mouth to say something, but Principal Figgins put up his finger and then continued talking "Mr. Hummel, I understand that this is very upsetting for you, but please try to remain calm. I do apologize if you feel we haven't provided him with the support he deserves, though I assure you I would have taken more proactive steps had I known about his needs. I was under the impression only your one child was a homosexual."

"W_hat_?" Burt asked.

Mr. Schue mouthed something to Principal Figgins then said, "Mr. Hummel. This is Will Schuster. We're actually calling regarding Finn."

"Finn?"

"Yeah," I said, "Sorry, I should of said something."

"It's not your fault Finn, I just assumed something like this..."

"It's OK... I mean, Kurt's normally the one involved in the bullying related stuff and all."

"Maybe, but I shouldn't have made that assumption-Now Mr. Figgins, I'd like to know what the hell you intend to do about this." Principal Figgins went through what he had told me, and Burt was not impressed. "I think I may need to contact an attorney."

"That is your right, but I hope that you will allow us to handle the situation internally," Principal said.

"We'll see. Finn, how are you holding up?"

"I'm OK."

"Good. You just let me know if that changes. You need anything at all, call."

I smiled a bit. Burt really did care. "Thanks, but I think I'm OK."

"I mean it. Anything. We'll get this fixed. Trust me."

"I got it."

"Mr. Figgins, I do appreciate you contacting me. I'm sure we'll have more to discuss over the next few days. For now I'd like to discuss this with my wife and Finn and we'll decide how we want to proceed."

"Thank you, Mr. Hummel. Please do not hesitate to call on me if I may be of assistance." After Burt hung up, Principal Figgins looked at me. "Is there anything else you would like to discuss?"

"No, I think I'm good."

"Alright. That offer extends to you as well. Please do not hesitate to see me if you require something."

I nodded and stood up. The whole thing had been really uncomfortable and I was glad it was over.

The next period had already started, so Ms. Pillsbury walked me to English class to let Ms. Tempe know why I was late. On the way, I had one question for her.

"Why'd she do it?" I asked.

"People do things for lots of different reasons Finn."

"But that doesn't really answer my question…"

Ms. Pillsbury took a deep breath. I could tell she was very frustrated, but it wasn't with me. This whole thing was really getting to her. Mr. Schue might have been angry, but Ms. P. seemed very sad. "I wish I knew. Maybe then we could help her."

"Yeah… totally."

**A/N: Thanks again for reading! Reviews are encouraged and truly are appreciated!**


	14. And About Last Night

**A/N: Whenever Sue shows up it seems like a chapter takes longer to write... As always thanks to everyone who has reviewed and subscribed. As always, my sincere appreciation goes to wood-u-like-2-no for his efforts in beta reading.**

I had a real hard time concentrating in English. I should of been happy-I'd passed that really hard Vocab quiz from the week before. 60% is passing. Of course, Ms. Tempe went on about how I needed to work harder and motivate myself to excel and those other things teachers say, but I just kind of nodded. I couldn't get what Ms. Sylvester had said out of my mind. Yeah, she says stuff that's not true all the time, but what if it was? It's not like I hadn't talked to scouts... a scout. And he was interested... he seemed interested. I hadn't forgotten how Coach Tanaka once said "All recruiters are interested until they aren't." Of course back then there weren't any interested recruiters to start with-we sucked pretty bad.

And then there are the kids out there who had colleges fighting over them. I hate to admit it, but I sometimes read Hasuner's interviews and stuff-the dude was on the Ohio HS Sports website all the time-and he always brought up things like what scouts he'd talked with that week. It was always more than one. I got interviewed HS Sports once when we won the conference championship. It was all about playing with girls and the half-time show. The article didn't even say I was the quarterback.

After somehow getting through English without actually doing anything, I tried to clear my head on the way to lunch. Martin wasn't a gotcha reporter or anything, but I didn't want to sound as out of it as I felt. The last thing I needed was him getting the idea I was losing confidence in myself. Of course, I didn't actually get to the cafeteria.

"Come with me." Ms. Sylvester grabbed my shoulder, and before I had a chance to react she was pushing me into a classroom. She motioned for me to sit down, and leaned up against the chalk board. "You and Schuester have really done it now."

I stared at her for a few seconds. "Done what?" My first guess was this was about the whole records thing-it's not like Ms. Sylvester had anything else to talk about. But why was she angry at me and Mr. Schue?

She smiled. Not a nice smile.

"When the dust settles, Will Schuester will be nothing but a memory at this school and your precious glee club will be in shambles."

"What dust? What are you talking about?"

"Do you know what the procedure is when one teacher makes an accusation against another?"

"Principal Figgins said there was, like a board or something..."

She nodded. "And when that board finds that the accusation is a baseless, malicious attack, what do you think happens?"

"But it's not-"

"Standard procedure is to move the instigator somewhere else in the district," she interrupted. "After all, I can hardly be expected to work with someone who's attacked me professionally."

"Wait-you mean they can send you to another school for this?" That really wouldn't bother me that much.

"Not me."

It took me a second or two to figure out what she meant there. "Mr. Schue didn't do anything wrong!" I said.

Ms. Sylvester laughed. "You're naiveté amuses me. He has no evidence, no support, and no clue the kind of nightmare he is heading into. If he presses this, he'll be the sad, little man who threw heinous and untrue accusations at a hard working and respected educator."

I looked at the floor then back at her. "They can't—it's not right…" They couldn't seriously make Mr. Schue go to another school or whatever because he reported something, could they?

"With Schuester out of the picture, glee club will slowly wither away and die like a houseplant in a college dorm."

"But-it—was—you!" I said more angrily than your supposed to when talking to a teacher, but Ms. Sylvester really had me pissed off.

"Watch it Frankenteen," she snarled. Then, suddenly, she looked a lot calmer. "However, in an unusual act of generosity I'm prepared to discuss an alternative."

That didn't sound like Ms. Sylvester. She hated Mr. Schue and glee club. "Why would you help us?"

"I find the idea of administrative action by the school board strangely unfulfilling. I want a more direct hand in crushing William's dreams." She looked me in the eye. "If that means your pitiful little group of delinquents continues to limp along for a few more months, so be it."

I didn't really buy that. Ms. Sylvester had tried, like, everything to kill glee club. Plus, even if it was a school board thing officially, she'd still have her fingerprints over the whole thing. It wasn't like this didn't involve her in a big way. So I was pretty sure there was another angle. Some sort of evil trick was totally Ms. Sylvester's style.

"Ok, but, isn't this, like, more between you and Mr. Schue?"

"He's embarked on a feeble-minded quest to bring me down," Ms. Sylvester said, "and he's either to stupid or too arrogant to admit it's a mistake."

I had to give her that one. "Yeah, when he gets going on something rabid horses couldn't stop him."

"If William won't stop his crusade, it's up to you to stop it for him."

I didn't like the sound of that. "Why?"

"He thinks he's protecting you," she said, "he is doing this for you. So you need to remove his motivation." Ms. Sylvester put a folder on the table and opened it. "This is a legal waiver for the release of your student records. Sign it, and Schuester has no reason to go forward with his allegations against me."

I looked at the paper. It was in really small font and had really big words that I didn't really understand. But I knew what a waiver was. My mom had to sign one every year saying we wouldn't sue the school if I got hurt playing football. "So it, like, says I won't sue the school over this?"

"It says I had permission to access and distribute your records."

"But I didn't give you permission. Isn't saying you had permission sort of lying?"

"This is your chance to protect Mr. Schuester," she said calmly. "And you're not lying, you are retroactively giving me permission for something I didn't do."

"But what does Mr. Schue have to do with not suing the school?"

She was starting to look pissed again. "If you said those files could be released, then nothing wrong happened. Schuester has nothing to complain about, and this all ends here."

"Can I think about it?"

"Schuster's already started digging his hole. If you don't stop it now, it will be too late."

I didn't know what to do. This _had_ to be a trick, and if it was just me in trouble I'd probably have told Ms. Sylvester where to stick it. Well probably not because if I said that to her I'd be in really big trouble and maybe dead but the point is there was more to this than just me.

"What happens to glee club if I sign? You don't get put in charge or anything?"

"You're questions bore me. Sign the paper or let Schuster take the fall. I'll be fine either way; Schuester won't."

I looked at the paper again. The whole 'I want to end Schuester myself' thing seemed kind of whack. Maybe she wasn't really sure about how things turned out; maybe she thought she could be the one who got transferred. But just because she wasn't sure how things would turn out didn't mean Mr. Schue was totally safe. Ms. Sylvester was really good and making things turn out the way she wanted because she'd pretty much do anything it took. I didn't care about suing the school or Ms. Sylvester getting punished or whatever, though that written apology would have been kind of cool. I did want to be 100% sure that nothing bad happened to Mr. Schue. I signed my name slowly on the paper.

"You've made a wise decision," she said. "Now get the hell out of my office."

"But this is Ms Keller's classr—"

"Out!"

No point in arguing. Seeing as she'd started the whole 'never had a chance for a scholarship' funk, I thought about brining that up but figured it wasn't really the time. Plus I pretty much knew what she'd say. The more I thought about it, there was one person who might actually have some answers, but I didn't really want to have that conversation.

The halls were quiet now, everyone had already got where they were going. I was late for lunch but all that meant was my spaghetti was a little cold. They also had some bread that looked like a bran muffin, and the vegetable of the day was green. I'm not making that up. That's what the sign said. And it was almost right. As far as drinks, they had the really expensive bottled stuff, water, and fruit drink. Freshman year the stuff was still called fruit juice, but then someone complained that there wasn't actually any juice in it. I don't really get why fruit drink works, because I'm pretty sure there isn't any fruit in it either. At least it tasted ok.

Kurt and Blaine were sitting together in the back of the cafeteria. I went over, said hi, and sat down.

"What are you guys working on for today?" I asked.

"It's a bit presumptuous to assume we're doing a duet," Kurt said.

"But accurate," Blaine added.

"So what is it?"

Kurt smiled. "A surprise."

"Come on, I'll tell you what Rach and I are doing. It's not what you'd expect."

"You'd have a much better bargaining position if Rachel hadn't already announced it to the world," Kurt said.

"Oh." I had a sip of fruit drink. I looked down at the spaghetti and twisted it around my fork; it looked good, especially compared to Kurt's 'green' but I just wasn't that hungry.

"You know," Kurt said, "it's been a while since we did an impromptu cafeteria performance."

Blaine smiled. "We've got 'Dancing Queen' down and ready to go." He was expecting a protest or something. When I didn't answer, he asked me if I was doing alright.

"Yeah… sure."

"You're not still brooding about that asshole?" Kurt asked.

"No… I'm just… " I shook my head. "It's not that. I'm fine. Really."

Kurt pointed at my plate. "If it were nothing that spaghetti would be gone by now."

Blaine locked eyes with me. "You know he's going to keep asking until you tell him what's going on."

I paused for a few seconds to figure out the right words. What was that saying Blaine had used the other day—it was kind of perfect for this, and it was from some play so Kurt would get it. "I guess I've just been, sort of... chasing windmills."

Kurt looked confused for a second, then asked, "you mean tilting at windmills?"

"I'm not really sure... probably."

"A bit clunky on the execution, but nonetheless a fine use of the classic Don Quixote idiom," Kurt said.  
"I must admit I'm impressed." I knew he'd like it.

"The point is I heard some stuff that made me re-reevaluate the whole football scholarship thing. I'm wondering if I've kind of been fooling myself-getting all excited over one recruiter, seeing what I want to see kind of stuff."

Kurt snorted. "Did Rachel decide to put her foot down?"

"What?"

"It means to take a firm stand on something," Kurt said.

"Damn it I know what it means!" I know I don't have the greatest vocabulary or whatever, but it pisses me off when he assumes I don't know something. Of course it sucks when he assumes I know something too, so... "What is she taking a stand _on_?"

"College, obviously," Kurt said in an irritating tone. "It's come up more than once. She always says she'll support whatever you decide. And honestly, I think she would—at least, she'd try her best to support you. I can tell it is really hard for her to think about being apart from you. I figured maybe she'd worked up the courage to say something."

"Rachel isn't one for subtlety," Blaine said. "I'm surprised she hadn't put more pressure on Finn already."

"I know... but with him she doesn't want to come off as too demanding. With most people it's her way or the proverbial highway, but with Finn she dials it back a notch... or tries to." Kurt said.

"But still, she's the controlling one in that relationship."

I waved my hands. "Guys, I'm like, still right here."

Kurt smiled. "Sorry Finn. Relationship gossip. It's like crack to me."

"It's my relationship!"

"That doesn't mean the drama is any less entertaining. A play doesn't become tedious simply because I know the cast."

"This isn't a play, this is-" I sighed. He'd never get it. "Nevermind."

"The fact remains," Kurt said, "that long distance relationships are hard."

"I know. I mean, not seeing Rachel would be tough. For both of us. Trust me, I really get that. But there are ways to keep in touch."

"But have you thought it through? Communication by texting, facebook, maybe Skype once in a while. And even a video chat really isn't a suitable for the more intimate parts of a relationship."

"Dude! Seriously, don't go there."

Kurt turned to Blaine. "You see what I mean; boys _are_ more difficult. Rachel is never this defensive."

"You talk with Rachel about _that?_" I asked very quietly, trying to hide the fact I felt like puking. I knew that Kurt and Rach were close and he knew things that I really didn't think one bro should know about another's relationship, but this was too fucking much. No pun intended.

"Relax," Kurt said. "She doesn't go into anything explicit."

Somehow that didn't make me feel better. "Really, Kurt, what does she say?"

"It's private girl talk. Just let it be."

"Let it be?" I asked angrily.

_"Whisper__words__of__wisdom,__let__it__be..._" Blaine sang quietly. "Sorry, I thought you guys were going for something."

Kurt laughed. I'll give him credit, it was kind of funny. But more importantly, it reminded me of something. I've always found when I'm in the dumps singing helps. It's kind of awesome the way music can make you feel better about stuff. And Kurt was right, it had been a while since we'd sang in the caf.

I smiled at Blaine and raised an eyebrow, then sang "_And__when__the__broken__hearted__people__living__in__the__world__agree.._."

"_There__will__be__an__answer,__let__it__be,__" _Blaine picked it up.

_"For__though__they__may__be__parted,"_I_c_ontinued.

"_There__is__still__a__chance__that__they__will__see_," Blaine sang.

"_There__will__be__an__answer,__let__it__be."_

Blaine and I alternated on the first chorus

_Yeah let it be  
let it be,  
let it be,  
yeah, let it be,  
there will be an answer, let it be._

The two of us sang the second chorus in harmony.

_ Let it be, let it be,  
Let it be, yeah let it be,  
Whisper words of wisdom  
Let it be..._

"_And__when__the__night__is__cloudy,__" _I sang, "_there__is__still__a__light__that__shines__on__me.__"_

"_Shine__on__till__tomorrow,__" _Kurt joined in, "_Let__it__be.__"_

Blaine continued, _"__I__wake__up__to__the__sound__of__music,__Mother__Mary__comes__to__me__…"_

"_Keeping__words__of__wisdom,__let__it__be,__"_ Kurt and I sang together. It really should have been just one of us, but that's the kind of stuff that happens when you don't rehearse.

We sang the last chorus together:  
_  
Let__it__be,__let__it__be  
Let__it__be,__yeah,__let__it__be  
Whisper__words__of__wisdom  
Let__it__be__…_

Most people had just ignored us, though a couple of people clapped and a few gave us nasty looks. One guy tossed a meatball at Kurt but he missed by about three feet so we just ignored it. Last thing we needed was to get blamed for a food fight.

"Finn?" I'd gotten into the song and missed Martin sneaking up behind me. "I figured that was you over here singing."

"Yeah." I motioned to Kurt and Blaine. "We do that sometimes."

"More than sometimes I'm told," He said. "You still have a few minutes?"

"Yeah, sure."

He sat down and opened up a notepad. "This isn't just a sport piece. It's about you. Love you, hate you, everyone knows you and wants to know what's going on for the famous Finn Hudson."

"It's not really that interesting."

Martin smiled. "It's funny you say that. A lot of people think their own lives are boring. But trust me, there are a lot of people that will find everything you have to say fascinating. Of course, the big question on everyone's mind right now is how you feel about the game Saturday."

I thought about it for a few seconds. The real answer was we were going up against the best team we'd ever played and I was worried. We'd come up with some strategies against them, but still, we were going to need to be really good to pull out a win. Of course that isn't the type of answer I can give.

"I'm pretty confident. Sure Marion's a good team, but we've got them figured out pretty well."

"How are you going to get past their defense? A lot of folks think it's the best in the State."

"They are pretty good, but- well, I'm not sure how much Coach Bieste wants me to talk about what we actually got planned… I guess I can say it's probably going to be a passing game."

"Because they can shut down a running game," Martin said.

"Pretty much," I said. Then I realized that wasn't the right answer. Well, not the one I was supposed to give at least. "I mean, we can get through them either way, but passing is the safest bet."

"I know it's a challenge either way. Jake Haunser got nine sacks in his last two starts."

I frowned. "I'm not worried about Jake Haunser."

"Yeah… about him… it seems like you have quite the epic rivalry going on."

"Do we really need to go there?" I asked.

"I'm not trying to find dirt or embarrass you here. I'm sure you realize the mall isn't exactly a private place. The story is out, rumors are swirling, and I want to give you a chance to tell your side of the story."

I shrugged. "It was one team messing with another. Nothing new."

"Come on Finn, I'm trying to help you here. This wasn't your typical inter-school rivalry. What really happened?"

"It... it got kind of personal. Normally things don't get that dirty."

"How so?"

"Marty," Blaine said, "I don't mean to interrupt, but I was there. Just take my word anyone who says Finn overreacted didn't get what was really going on."

"I'd really like to give my readers something more concrete."

"And I don't really want to go into it," I said. "I know you need to make a story and stuff, but-"

"What if we go off the record?"

"What exactly does that mean?" I asked.

"It means I can't write what you tell me."

"But like, what's the point?

Martin sighed. "I can't use the details you give in the story, but they help me better construct the overall narrative. For instance, if after learning what happened I agree with Blaine's assessment, then I can write an article saying you were completely justified to lash out like you did without actually explaining why you got so upset."

I thought about that for a few seconds. I didn't really want to get into it, but maybe Martin was right-the mall wasn't exactly private, and I probably ended up looking like a real asshole to most people. "So you won't print this?"

"I promise."

"He went after my dad. Not Burt. My real dad. Making fun of how he died and... and stuff like that."

Martin nodded. "Sorry, I don't have all my notes from other interviews... he was in the military?"

"Yeah. He deployed when I was really little." I looked at the floor. "He never made it home."

"Alright, well... you're right, that's low. And we'll leave it at that."

"Thanks."

Martin glanced down at his notes. "I hate to put you on the spot again, but nothing sells like controversy."

"How do you even buy controversy?" I asked.

"It's an expression Finn," Kurt said.

"Oh, you mean that people want to read stuff that's about controversy." Martin nodded. I was kind of proud I'd figured that out, but no one else seemed impressed.

"I've been hearing some of your teammates are frustrated with you cutting practice."

"What? What do you mean _cutting__practice?_ I don't ditch practice!"

"Well, apparently you come late or leave early fairly often due to glee rehearsal."

"I guess that's sort of true, but it's not like I don't make up the time," I said.

"But don't you think it's unfair to the rest of team?"

It was my turn to smile. "They could join glee club."

Martin laughed. "I think some of those guys would rather run drills. But seriously, how do you choose which one takes priority?"

"Look, we're about to play a regional championship game. The fact that Coach Bieste is cool with me and a couple of the other guys cutting out a few minutes early hasn't hurt anything."

"You didn't actually answer my question. Which one is really more important to you?"

"Both," I said. And I meant it.

"I know that you want to promote both groups, but be honest here."

"I am being honest. They are both part of who I am."

"I don't buy it. Which one is _really_ more important?"

"Which one of your nuts is _really_more important?" I asked.

Kurt gave me a surprised look. Blaine chuckled and said, "Wow."

Martin was quiet for a few seconds. "Alright. I get the point." He flipped through his note pad for a second. "So how are the New Direction's prospects this year?"

"Better than ever," I said. "We got more talent than ever before, a lot more experience in how the whole completion stuff works, and just kind of a whole new level of awesomeness."

"You sound very confident about that."

"I am."

"As opposed to…" he looked down and read off his pad, "'pretty confident' when it comes to this weekend's game."

"I didn't mean it like that," I said.

"You really can't take anything he says at face value," Kurt says.

"Exactly!" I said.

"Finn's never been the greatest at articulating his thoughts," Kurt added.

"I think he gets the point," I said.

"What you're saying," Martin said, "is not to read too much into that."

"What _I'm_saying is we are totally going to win the game, and we are going to win nationals," I said. I jammed my finger against his little notebook hard enough that it put a little tear in the paper. "And you can write _that_ down."

**Thanks for reading! Reviews and subscriptions are sincerely appreciated!**

_"Let it Be" by Paul McCartney and John Lennon, 1970_


	15. The Bitch is Back

**A/N-As always, thanks to everyone who took the time to read and review, and a special thanks to Wood-u-like-to-no for his time he puts in uncovering the little things I miss and suggesting how to make the story better!**

Martin and I talked for a few more minutes before the bell rang, and then I headed back to class. My mind drifted back to the football scholarship, and I decided I needed to talk to the one person who knew more about it than anyone else. I was kind of dreading it, because it could be bad news, but I had to talk with Coach Bieste about getting some time off for glee rehearsal Friday after school anyway. I might as well bring it up to her then. Of course, I'd somehow need to catch Coach Bieste before she started practice, get over to glee before rehearsal started, and be back on the field half an hour later. It was going to be tough, but if everything else went smoothly for the rest of the day I'd make it happen.

Instead of smooth, I found myself in Principal Figgin's office again. I'd made it most of the way through fourth period, but then Puck had to open his mouth. Sitting next to Puck in the principal's office was nothing new, though it hadn't been happening as much lately. We weren't alone though. I was sitting next to Sam and Kelly Wilkerson.

"We didn't do anything wrong," Sam said loudly.

Principal Figgins put his hands up. "We'll get this sorted out properly, I assure you." He looked at Puck. "According to the note from Mr. Taylor, you were the instigator of this disruption. Would you like to explain what he means by that?"

Puck shrugged. "Like you care what I have to say."

Figgins frowned and turned to me. "Mr. Hudson, could you describe what occurred? I assure you, there will be no disciplinary action taken if you must use off-color language."

I looked at Puck. I didn't want to sell him out, but if I didn't I knew one of the other guys would. Maybe not Sam, but Kelly was all about Kelly, there was no way he'd stick by Puck. And after that last comment it sounded like Puck was just going to keep digging. I didn't want to sit there doing nothing while he got me in _more_ trouble. Plus, if I explained what happened I could try and make it sound as good as possible. "It wasn't all that bad or anything, just kind of a joke. Not really a big deal really."

"I'm not interested in your interpretation," Principal Figgins said, "just the facts. I will decide the size of the deal."

"OK, um, we were talking about CDs in class-not the music ones, the other ones, the bank ones."

"I understand that," Figgins said.

I glanced at Puck before I continued. He didn't look happy, but he didn't say anything. "So, um, Mr. Taylor says something like 'the problem is if you pull out too early, you lose interest'," I said, "and then Puck goes 'that's what she said' and we all started laughing. And it was kind of loud and we thought it was funny so I couldn't stop when I should but it wasn't like we were making fun of someone or using bad language or anything."

Sam snickered a bit, which made Principal Figgins frown. "It was enough to create a disruption in the learning environment," he said. "However, I appreciate your cooperation. You can go now." Everyone started to stand, but Principal Figgins motioned to sit down. "Mr. Hudson can go. I'm not done with the rest of you."

"Why's he get to go and I'm stuck here with these other idiots. That ain't how it works!" Kelly said.

"Idiots?" Sam repeated angrily.

"Mr. Wilkerson, I assure you everyone involved will be dealt with fairly, including Mr. Hudson," Principal Figgins said calmly.

Kelly was fuming. "I know what I'm seeing, you're letting Finn off scot-free."

"There are other circumstances I need to consider," Principal Figgins said, not as calmly this time. "And I do not need to explain my reasoning to you."

It took a second or two, but I realized those other circumstances had to do with the whole Ms. Sylvester giving away my files. Just like earlier, Principal Figgins was being really nice to me. He was worried Burt was going to sue the school or something. Which meant Ms. Sylvester hadn't told him about that note I signed. And that meant I might actually have some power here. It was worth a try.

"He's right. Nobody _really_ did anything wrong." I thought for a few seconds about what to say. I didn't want to come off like I was threatening Principal Figgins or anything-first, it was just wrong to do that to someone, and second if I didn't have as much pull as I thought I didn't want to piss him off. "I guess, I don't think it's that big of deal. I know-we know it was dumb and not to do it again, but it would really mean a lot to me if everyone could just go back to class with a warning."

Principal Figgins seemed to think about that for a while. "Very well. A warning this time. But if any of you disrupt a class again it will be automatic detention."

Everyone got up. I was the last one out and almost got knocked over as Ms. Sylvester pushed her way into the officer. I glanced back and saw her slap a piece of paper down in front of Principal Figgins.

"You and Schuester can call off your dogs," she said. "That lanky dope signed a waiver."

I saw Figgins skim it, then he looked up towards me. He didn't look happy. I wasn't sure if he was upset I signed it or if he was pissed because I'd sort of just used leverage that I guess I didn't technically have anymore. I wasn't about to stick around and find out, and I followed everyone else around the corner.

"I can't believe you narked on me," Puck said angrily.

"I got you out of there too," I said.

"That _was_ ballsy," Sam said. "Where'd you get that kind of pull with Figgins?"

"Um, he sort of owed me a favor. No big deal."

Puck glanced at his cell. "There's only ten minutes left in fourth period. I say we just blow it off and hit the vending machines before rehearsal."

"You go ahead," I said, "I got to stop by the Bieste's office for something." Puck shrugged and walked off.

Coach Bieste was at her desk. Her whole office smell kind of funny, like a mix of locker room and flowers. Her door was open, but I still knocked and waited outside.

"What do you want?"

I stepped inside. "Umm, two things actually." I'd gotten to know Coach Bieste pretty good, and I liked to think I got along with her as well as any student. I'd never known anyone like her, so she was kind of intimidating at first. The whole kicking me off the team didn't really make her any less scary or make me like her any more. But that was then. Once we got past all the first impressions and stuff, I got to like her. That didn't mean I felt comfortable asking her for favors.

"Come on Hudson, I don't have all day. The team will be on the field in ten."

"I was wondering if I could come to practice a little earlier today then what we'd talked about."

"You don't need to ask my permission to come to practice early," she grumbled. "Just don't be late."

"Yeah, I... the other thing is, can I be a little late tomorrow. We have this glee thing and I didn't-"

She stood up behind her desk. I took a step back. It just sort of happened. "I can't change the practice schedule around every time you feel like singing a duet. I've been damn supportive of your glee club, but this is a _regional__championship_. I need a quarterback that can show up when he's supposed to." She frowned. "Do I make myself clear?"

"Yeah, totally... It's just... ten minutes coach, please. It would mean so much for Rachel."

"Oh, it's for the girlfriend."

"Yeah. Completely. Does that change anything?"

"NO!" She walked around her desk and I took another step back. "If Schuster absolutely needed you for something I'd see what I could do, but I'm not about to upend the practice schedule because you're trying to get into your girlfriend's pants."

"No, it's an assignment that I need to—"

"You just said it was for your girlfriend. Now it's an assignment. Don't play me Hudson."

Great. I'd just dug a nice hole. And now it sounded like I was lying to Coach Bieste. "I—we have an assignment this week, so I really do need to do it. But it's really important to me because it's a song that means a lot to Rachel."

Bieste sighed. "What do you want me to do? You're the quarterback."

"OK, how's this, I come early tomorrow and dress with the team, come out normal time, and just duck away for ten minutes to do the song sometime when it works for you. Please."

"I don't like begging," Bieste said.

"I'm begging because I made a promise that I don't want to break."

"You made a promise to this team that you'd do what it took to lead them."

"But they can totally get by-I mean, I know that but I just think for tomorrow maybe we can be just a little, you know, flexible. I just need, like, ten minutes-max."

Bieste sighed. "Alright. But it's on my terms."

"You got it! Thanks coach!" I turned around then remembered what I really didn't want to talk about. I looked back at her.

"Something else?"

"Yeah, I, had kind of personal question for you. You know, if you have a second."

She frowned. "I'm not the best with personal questions."

"It's a personal football question," I said.

"That might be closer. As long as it's not about an infection. I don't want to listen to another kid whining about jock itch."

I started to wonder what kind of moron would come to Coach Bieste with a problem like that, but it wasn't really important at the moment. "I-you know I've always kind of hoped for a scholarship-a football scholarship." She nodded but didn't say anything. "So, I guess, I'm kinda wondering if that was dumb."

"You've always known scholarships are a long shot," she said.

"I look at other guys-even some guys we've beat-and they got recruiters crawling all over them."

I could tell by Coach Bieste's face she knew exactly what I was saying. "I'm not going to sugar coat this for you." She took a deep breath. "You're good. But not as good as you think you are."

"Uh... what?" I hadn't really been expecting that.

"Face it Hudson. When you look at the statistics, you're not that impressive. Your sophomore season was a disaster-over three years you have a winning record, but not by the margin colleges want to see.. The simple fact is there are a lot of guys out there better than you. There are guys on the team better than you. I've got guys out there who can run faster, are more agile, and are damn close when it comes to passing. Not to mention they _do__what__I__say._"

I looked around nervously. This was not making me feel better. "What... you're not-I'm still the quarterback, right?"

"I want you to understand _why_ you are," she said. "It's not all about running yards and completions. I'm not going to say I begin to understand why, but those guys out there respond to you. When it hits the fan, you're the one who can keep them moving forward. The Titans didn't become champions because they had the best passer in the state, they are where they are today because their quarterback inspired them to win."

That was kind of a whoa moment for me. Coach Bieste had made comments about me having leadership skills and stuff, but she'd never come right out and said that my leadership mattered that much. Of course, I kind of had my doubts. Coach Bieste isn't the type to blow smoke, but I was quarterback a whole year before we started winning. "That's who I try to be, you know, the guy that leads and inspires and stuff. But things didn't get better till you showed up."

"You needed more guidance than you were getting. And more discipline. A lot more. Everyone on the team did. It doesn't diminish what you accomplished."

I took a deep breath. "But the recruiters aren't looking at that stuff."

"If a recruiter could see-really see-what you've done for this team, they'd be on you like a platypus on a cantaloupe. But that's not how it works. Most don't have the time. They need to prioritize."

"So they look at the stats and stuff."

"And the school," she said. "They look at schools with strong programs and proven history of turning out good college players."

I sighed. "Yeah."

"And it doesn't matter."

I gave her a confused look. "It matters to me! I've wanted a football scholarship ever since I knew what it was. Knowing that it was never going to happen-"

"That doesn't mean it matters. How would it have changed anything?"

"What?"

"What would you of done differently? Would you have not played football?"

"No. I love football."

"Would you have been content to be a receiver?"

"No... I want to be the quarterback…"

"So why the hell does a scholarship matter? You're going to go out there and do what you've done every game the Titan's have played since I've been here and-" She stopped when she saw my funny smile. She frowned. I thought she was pissed.

"Sorry, I wasn't trying to say—"

"I know," she said. "You've come a long way since then. We've come a long way." She leaned forward. "Between you and me, it wasn't my best call."

"Yeah, but I guess you-" The look she gave me made it pretty clear she wanted me to shut up about it.

"We're building a program that will get a lot of attention one day," she said. "It doesn't happen overnight."

"I just wish it did…"

"Five years from now when recruiters are fighting over our players, you can bet your ass I'll be telling them about the guy who made it possible."

I smiled a bit. "I guess if I can't have a scholarship, being a legend isn't that bad."

Her eyes narrowed. "Don't let it go to your head, Hudson." The bell rang, meaning fourth period was over. "Now if I'm not mistaken, you have a rehearsal to get to. After which I own you for the rest of the night."

My eyes went wide. She couldn't seriously be talking about doing an extended practice on a Thursday. That was supposed to be weekends only. "OK, but I still have homework and stuff that I-"

She frowned again. "I've heard enough of your problems for one day. Get out."

I turned and left as quickly as I could without running. Hanging around after Bieste tells you to get lost never turns out well. Plus it isn't exactly a short walk from her office to the choir room. It's like whoever designed the place never thought anyone would be making that trip a lot. I guess to be fair, there was a point where I never thought anyone would be making that trip a lot. But still it kind of sucks when you are tight on time. It's actually shorter to head outside and cut across the back parking lot, but all the doors are locked so you need someone to let you inside. It's easier just to use the halls most of the time.

Everyone was pretty much settled in when I got there. Mr. Schue had listed who was performing today up on one side of the board, and the other half had a bunch of scribbles that I think were supposed to be choreography. It looked way more complicated than it should be for something like 'The Times They Are a' Changing' but I didn't say anything. Getting into a choreography-off with Mr. Schue is kind of a no-win situation for me.

"OK guys," Mr. Schue said as I was sitting down. "As you can see, we have a lot to get through today. I know some of you have other places to be-" he looked at me and Puck-"so Puck, you're up first. Show us what you got."

Puck walked over to me and handed me some sheet music. "Can you do this?"

I knew the song somewhat, though I'd never tried to play it before. "Yeah, I can do it."

"Good. Kurt and Artie were down, but we need drums to make this work." Kurt was already walking to the Piano and Puck grabbed guitars for him and Artie. With no rehearsing and only sort of knowing the song this was going to be rough, but I had to admit it was a pretty sweet pick for Puck.

Puck started out:

_Friday__night__I__crashed__your__party  
Saturday__I__said__I'm__sorry  
Sunday__came__and__trashed__me__out__again  
I__was__only__having__fun  
Wasn't__hurting__anyone  
And__we__all__enjoyed__the__weekend__for__a__change  
_  
_I've__been__stranded__in__the__combat__zone  
I__walked__through__Bedford__Stuy__alone_

Kurt joined in on the next several lines:

_Even__rode__my__motorcycle__in__the__rain  
And__you__told__me__not__to__drive  
But__I__made__it__home__alive  
So__you__said__that__only__proves__that__I'm__insane  
_  
Puck continued, "_You__may__be__right,__I__may__be__crazy"_

I joined in, "_But__it__just__may__be__a__lunatic__you're__looking__for."_

Puck continued alone, "_Turn__out__the__light,__don't__try__to__save__me"_

_Then__Kurt__and__I__joined__in_"_You__may__be__wrong__for__all__I__know  
But__you__may__be__right"  
_  
Puck started the next verse:  
_  
Well...__Remember__how__I__found__you__there  
Alone__in__your__electric__chair  
I__told__you__dirty__jokes__until__you__smiled_

I couldn't help myself. "Yeah, look how _that_ worked out for you," I said over the music. Puck gave me a look, but there wasn't time to say anything at the moment, so he continued:  
_  
You__were__lonely__for__a__man  
I__said__take__me__as__I__am  
'Cause__you__might__enjoy__some__madness__for__awhile_

"Says the guy who ratted me out to Figgins," Puck shot back before continuing:__

Now_think__of__all__the__years__you__tried__to  
Find__someone__to__satisfy__you  
I__might__be__as__crazy__as__you__say_

"Hey, who got who sent to the office!" I replied.

_If__I'm__crazy__then__it's__true  
That__it's__all__because__of__you  
And__you__wouldn't__want__me__any__other__way_

"Shut up and drum!" he said quickly, before continuing. __

You_may__be__right  
I__may__be__crazy_

"I am and you is!" I shouted, then we both sang, "_But__it__just__may__be__a__lunatic__you're__looking__for"_

Puck continued:

_It's__too__late__to__fight  
It's__too__late__to__change__me  
You__may__be__wrong__for__all__I__know  
But__you__may__be__right_

Artie took the lead with an awesome guitar solo, while Puck turned to me and said, "If you had stopped laughing when she said be quiet none of this would have happened."

"Seriously? You're gonna lay this on me because I laughed at your joke?"

Artie gave us a dirty look for talking over him, but it didn't stop Puck. "Damn straight. I assumed you had some self control."

"You know the song is about trying to seduce someone?" Kurt asked.

"Yeah," Puck said. "Why?"

"It just makes an interesting backdrop for your little back and forth. It really adds a bickering lovers angle."

"Ew, Kurt, why'd you bring _that_ up!" I said.

"Because it was _obvious_ to everyone else."

"Just shove it Hummel," Puck said as Artie wrapped up his solo. The guitar solo was longer than in the original song since we didn't have someone on the Saxophone to pick up the second half. Of course, that wasn't really what everyone was paying attention to.

As he finished, all four of us started the last chorus:  
_  
You__may__be__right  
I__may__be__crazy  
But__it__just__may__be__a__lunatic__you're__looking__for  
Turn__out__the__light  
Don't__try__to__save__me_

Puck waived at the room, and almost everyone joined in__

You_may__be__wrong__for__all__I__know  
But__you__may__be__right  
You__may__be__wrong__but__you__may__be__right  
You__may__be__wrong__but__you__may__be__right_

We got a lot of applause for that one, more than usual. I guess it was because it's a really energetic song everyone can kind of get in on.

"I take it if we performed this at the fundraiser it would be without the commentary?" Mr. Schue asked.

Puck frowned and glared at me. "This was supposed to be without the commentary."

I shrugged. "Sorry. You kind of set yourself up though."

"Alright, I know some of you need to get going, so let's move on to our ensemble number," Mr. Schue said.

"Mr. Schue," Kurt said, "I think if everyone has a vote in selecting a song for the fundraiser, it's only fair if they see every performance."

He thought about that for a second. "You're right Kurt. You can't vote on what you don't see."

"But I-I need to get to practice," I said. I looked over at Kurt. "Kurt, what if I just promise to vote for you?" Of course that would piss people off, but I knew he'd be great and I had to get going so it sort of made sense at the time.

Kurt shrugged. "That would work too."

"Oh _hell__no!_" Mercedes yelled.

Mr. Schue didn't get far trying to calm her down. "Relax, that is-"

Mercedes pointed at him. "Don't you tell me to relax. I'm not going to let all them take away my chance to shine!"

"No one is taking anything from anyone," Mr. Schue said. You could tell he was a little pissed that Mercedes had interrupted him like that. He looked back at me. "I'm sorry Finn, it looks like you're stuck here a little longer."

"Can I not vote?" Probably should of suggested that first. At least it would of made a little less drama.

Mr. Schue took a deep breath. "I need to agree with Kurt. Everyone should vote. I'm not sure I'm comfortable with people being excluded from this decision, even if _they_ are comfortable with it. Especially if they are a team captain."

"I could be his proxy," Rachel said.

"You'd just love that, now wouldn't you girl?" Mercedes said.

"What's a proxy?" I asked.

Mercedes ignored me. "Either he sits his white ass down and listens to everyone or this whole thing is a sham."

"Language, Mercedes," Mr. Schue said.

"Mr. Schue, my people have had to deal with being suppressed and abused and even killed when they try to express their opinion and vote for hundreds of years. I don't take kindly when someone tries to do something like that here."

"No one is trying to suppress your opinion,"

"And I hate to break it to you," Kurt said, "but Black people don't have a monopoly on being oppressed." He looked at Mr. Schue. "That said, she is right. There is only one fair way to do this."

"But I can't stay," I said. "I'm supposed to be at practice in like fifteen minutes, and it takes-" Not to mention the tension level in the room was getting way to high for me.

"You really think Bieste is going to kick you off the team two days before the regional championship?" Tina asked.

"I don't know... Coach Bieste is totally the type of person who will change horses in on the way to the apocalypse."

Artie looked at me. "Say _what?_"

Quinn rolled her eyes. "The expression is changing horses in the middle of a race," she said. "The four horseman of the apocalypse are allegorical figures from the Book of Revelation."

"Alle-what?"

She shook her head. "Sometimes I wonder what I ever saw in you."

There were a few murmurs and stuff, then Rachel demanded, "What exactly is that supposed to mean?"

I put my hands up. "Rach, not now."

They both ignored me… like usual. "It means I don't understand how I cared so much for a guy with a room temperature IQ."

"And you act like _that_ is the disappointing thing about Finn," Santana said. She looked at Quinn. "Of course, you never actually did have sex during your relationship. Well, at least not with _him_."

"Guys!" Mr. Schue yelled.

"He's fine in bed," Rachel said. Really? Fine? Like of all the words Rachel knows, which is seriously a lot, she picks fine? What gives?

"This should be obvious," Santana said, "but years of what I can only imagine was disturbingly bizarre self pleasuring followed by one disappointing guy hardly qualifies you to make any comments here."

"Santana does have more experience," Artie said quietly.

Santana wasn't done. "All I'm saying is that some actual energy would be nice. I've used vibrators that are more passionate. And I like the bed to be soft, not the man." I'm pretty sure this was a dig my abs not my endowment cause normally I don't have a problem getting up... If anything it's more the opposite really-well the point is when she said it it pissed me off and it _really_ pissed Rachel off.

Rachel was standing now. "I'd rather have Finn any day than your parade of syphilis-infected meatheads."

"Rachel!" Mr. Schue yelled. No one seemed to be paying attention to him which bothered me. I could tell it was bothering other people to. I tried to think of something to say, but things were moving too fast. And if they weren't listening to Mr. Schue they wouldn't listen to me.

"The guys I sleep with do not have syphilis," Santana said angrily.

Rachel shrugged. "Not at first."

Santana got an evil smile. "Well if you feel that way maybe Finn should of gotten tested before you let him plow you."

"He said he got tested the day after."

"So he's not _that_ dumb," Kurt said to Quinn.

"Even an idiot would know to get checked after sleeping with her," Quinn said. Santana gave her a nasty look but didn't say anything.

"And by the way, he didn't think you we're all that great," Rachel said.

"Guys, do we really need to talk about this?" I begged.

"He didn't give me much to work with," Santana said. I know she's seen tons of guys, but she also loves to put people down for no reason so I think she was really exaggerating how 'little' she had to work with. At least that's what I keep telling myself.

Mr. Schue growled. "One more word on this subject and someone is going to see Figgins!"

Rachel smirked. "Alright, let's talk about her instead." She looked at Quinn. "You say Finn is stupid? He's not. He can be trusting and naive at times. I find it endearing. You obviously found it made him easier to manipulate."

"Is that all you think I am? A manipulator?"

"Don't answer that," I said.

"I also think you're untrustworthy, vain, conceited, rude, and immoral," Rachel said quickly.

"You say that like you're not the definition of a narcissistic bitch."

"At least I'm not willing to hurt people like you are," Rachel said.

"Rachel, Quinn, please," Mr. Schue said. I exchanged glances with him. We both knew this wasn't going to end well.

I've made some mistakes," Rachel admitted, "but you've always been the same. You want what you want, when you want it, are willing to do whatever underhanded thing it takes to get it, and then you throw it aside like garbage until you want it again."

"Finn dumped _me_," Quinn said surprisingly quietly.

"Don't even try to play the victim," Rachel said angrily. "It's your fault. Everything is. You treated Finn like crap, and you blame him for not taking it? You want things, but you're never willing to step up and do what it takes to keep them. Just like with your kid."

Puck shot out of his seat. "Don't you dare bring Beth into this Princess."

"Don't talk to my girlfriend that way," I said to him.

"I'll talk to her however the fuck I want to when she starts talking 'bout my girl," he snarled.

"Noah!" Mr. Schue yelled.

"She wasn't going after Beth," I said, "so lay off!"

"Muzzle your troll and you have a deal," he shot back. I headed towards him but Mr. Schue got between us.

Before I could say anything else, Mr. Schue yelled "Enough! You are all _way__out__of__line_." His face was red. "Next person who tries to put down or embarrass another member of our group will be going through that door for the last time."

It was quiet for a few seconds. The threat of actually getting kicked out of glee got everyone's attention. Still, there is a difference between giving up and giving in, and not everyone was ready to just forget what had gone down.

"I don't need this," Quinn said. "I don't need to sit here and listen to _her_." She stood up and walked out.

"She's right," Puck said as he walked towards the door. He looked at me and said, "Have a good one Finnster," in a tone that made it pretty obvious he didn't mean he wanted me to have a good one. Then he was gone too.

Everyone was quiet. A couple of the new kids looked really confused. It wasn't like it was the first drama they'd seen in glee, but it was probably some of the nastiest.

Artie looked at Kurt. "So you said something about everyone being here?"

**Thanks for reading! Reviews are greatly appreciated!**


	16. Weight of the World

**A/N: Happy New Year-about time for the next chapter!**

"What now?" Tina asked.

"We can't stop working just because some of us lack the professionalism and dedication to put aside personal issues," Rachel said.

"Don't try to blame _them_," Tina said.

"I'm not blaming anyone, I'm suggesting a course of action," Rach replied.

"Guys," Mr. Schue said, "the fact is we are down two people for the day. Two people we needed to rehearse our ensemble number. And there is enough blame to go around." He looked at the floor. "Finn, Mike... if you need to go, I can't make you stay. It wouldn't be fair to let Puck leave and not you two." He looked at me. "And we're too short to do 'The Times' today."

Mike and I stood up, but Mr. Schue wasn't done. "We need to run through at least two more songs today, though, and if you don't stay you don't vote. It just wouldn't be fair."

I glanced at the list on the board. I saw Tina was right after Kurt and Blaine. Mike wasn't going anywhere. Especially not if whatever had caused the earlier hallway drama was still going on.

"We'd both appreciate it if you stayed," Blaine said to me. "But understand if you need to go."

Mike looked at the clock and then at me. "Bieste is going to kills us, isn't she?"

"Yeah."

Tina looked at him and smiled. "I'll make it worth your while." Mike sat down.

I hesitated for a couple seconds. As much as I wanted to get to practice, I didn't want to skip out on Kurt and Blaine—plus it would be better for Mike if he and I showed up together. "I hope Kurt and Blaine make it worth my while."

Mike looked at me with a goofy smile, like he was trying really hard to keep from laughing. After a few seconds he said "She wasn't talking about the song."

"Oh... ohh..." That actually made more sense. I mean, what would motivate Mike more-a song or _that_? But then I'd said... I felt my face turn red. "You, uh, know I didn't-"

"I never thought you did," he said. "You do have a way with words sometimes."

I rolled my eyes and looked back to the front of the room. Kurt was searching through his iPod while Blaine talked about the song for a second. "We thought at an event like this we needed a song that was written to move people to action. One that was encouraging one man to help another, saying it is our responsibility to make things better for those around us. It isn't just about funding an art program. It is about putting people in the right state of mind, where they understand they can make a difference, they should take a stand. Making them realize the status quo is not good enough, and we can all be better."

So the deal was I'm on a timetable and Blaine decides to give a lecture before they actually start singing. He's always making things take longer than they need to. Like in the morning before class when I ask him for answers on homework and he tries to teach me the stuff. If I had time to learn it I wouldn't need the answers.

Kurt waved at Blaine. "It's not working."

"What do you mean it's not working?" Blaine asked.

"Exactly what I said. I dock it on the player and nothing happens."

Blaine walked over to him and they talked for a few seconds. "Mike, Finn, can you come here?" Blaine called out. We both walked down to the front.

"We're going to go acapella on this one," Blaine said. "It's not a big stretch, but we really need some extra voices to thicken up the last verse."

It seemed reasonable and Kurt handed me piece of paper with lyrics on it. "You probably know the song, but just in case you're not sure on the lyrcis. They are bit different in the last verse."

I looked it over. "You're doing Pink Floyd?" I asked.

"Is that a problem?" Kurt asked.

"No-it just didn't seem like what I was expecting."

"He likes the color," Blaine said with a smile. I was pretty sure that was a joke. Especially after the lecture.

"I'll cue you when to join in," Kurt said. "Start here," he added, pointing at the paper."

"Got it," I said.

Kurt started out alone:

_On the turning away  
From the pale and downtrodden  
And the words they say  
Which we won't understand  
Don't accept that what's happening  
Is just a case of others suffering  
Or you'll find that you're joining in  
The turning away._

I got to say I was pretty much floored at the way he sang this. I know his voice is awesome, but somehow it just fit so perfectly here. Kind of delicate and soft, but still firm and... not that delicate. He had a kind of strength to his voice that made me just stand there amazed at how good he really is. Blaine took up the next bit:

_It's a sin that somehow  
Light is changing to shadow  
And casting it's shroud  
Over all we have known  
Unaware how the ranks have grown  
Driven on by a heart of stone  
We could find that we're all alone  
In the dream of the proud_

Kurt took the lead again, with Blaine singing a harmony. It was almost haunting, and not like in some crummy horror movie way. More the way you just feel it and it makes your spine tingle.

_On the wings of the night  
As the daytime is stirring  
Where the speechless unite  
In a silent accord  
Using words you will find are strange  
Mesmerized as they light the flame  
Feel the new wind of change  
On the wings of the night  
_  
I'd kind of gotten so drawn into the whole thing I wasn't really paying attention when Kurt tapped my shoulder. After taking a second to figure out what was going on, I lined up with the rest of them. I sang with Kurt while Mike followed Blaine's harmony. I know Kurt wanted to thicken things up and all, but I couldn't help but feel I wasn't up to his level, at least not on this arrangement of this song.

_No more turning away  
From the weak and the weary  
No more turning away  
From the coldness inside  
Just a world that we all must share  
It's not enough just to stand and stare  
Is it only a dream that there'll be  
No more turning away?_

The last words faded and for few seconds there was silence, followed by a lot of applause, especially considering that between Quinn and Puck leaving and me and Mike joining in up front there weren't a whole lot of people in the audience.

Mr. Schue was smiling. "That… was… Excellent! You guys always come up with new ways to impress me."

I slapped Kurt on the back which surprised him a bit, then said, "Dude, that was awesome!"

Kurt smiled. "Thanks Finn."

"I'm serious man, you killed it." And I wasn't just trying to make him feel good. He really was that incredible.

"He's right," Blaine said. "That was amazing." The two of them hugged and went back to their seats. I followed. Mike gave Tina a hug for good luck before heading back to his seat. I looked at my phone and checked the time. Coach Bieste was not going to be happy.

Tina didn't have any of the trouble Kurt and Blaine did (which made me wonder if they actually _wanted_ to do the song the way we did), and her music came on almost instantly. The new wave song was totally different than the low key, stripped down power ballad Kurt and Blaine had just wrapped up. After a few seconds of music Tina started singing.

_Color me your color, baby  
Color me your car  
Color me your color, darling  
I know who you are  
Come up off your color chart  
I know where you're comin' from._

As she sang the first verse, Kurt, Blaine, Mike, and I exchanged glances. Tina hadn't asked us to help out with anything, which probably meant all the backup signing was already on the track, but that wasn't how we roll.

"Call me," Tina sang,

"Call me," the four of us echoed.

Tina smiled as she continued, "on the line. Call me, call me any anytime. Call me"

"Call me" we said again.

" I'll arrive, Tina sang, You can call me any day or night."

"Call me!" We all sang together. Tina went on to the next verse:

_Cover me with kisses, baby.  
Cover me with love.  
Roll me in designer sheets.  
I'll never get enough.  
Emotions come, I don't know why.  
Cover of love's alibi.  
_

The next chorus went down pretty much like the first one, with us singing loud enough to drown out the track Tina was singing too. Then Tina continued on her own again.

_Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, he speaks the languages of love  
Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, amore, chiamami, chiamami  
Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, appelle-moi mon cherie, appelle-moi  
Anytime, anyplace, anywhere, any way  
Anytime, anyplace, anywhere, any day-ay  
_

We did the final chorus pretty much like the other ones, adding some arm waving and fist pumping to the beat.

_Call me (call me) my love  
Call me, call me any, anytime  
Call me (call me) for a ride  
Call me, call me for some overtime  
Call me (call me) my love  
Call me, call me in a sweet design  
Call me (call me), call me for your lover's lover's alibi  
Call me (call me) on the line  
Call me, call me any, anytime  
_

As the music faded out, Tina got a huge smile. "Thanks guys, that was a lot of fun." She then walked over to Mike and gave him a kiss._  
_

Mr. Schue sighed. "I guess we'll have pick this up again tomorrow." He looked at me and Mike. "Thanks for sticking around guys."

Mike and I stood up, but before we got more than a couple steps toward the door Mercedes pointed at the board. "Mr. Schue, that little list you wrote says I'm supposed to sing today."

"I know, but these guys need to get to practice. It isn't fair to—"

"Fair to _me_, Mr. Schue. You said I had to be ready today. I'm ready."

Mr. Schue sighed and looked at me. "Same thing applies guys. You're welcome to leave, but no voting."

I thought about it for second. The voting didn't really matter to me before, but after that awesome performance I really wanted to support Kurt. And then there was the Mercedes factor. If I left she wouldn't take it well, and life in glee is easier when Mercedes isn't pissed at you. Sometimes it was just easier to do what she wanted. "I guess... At this point we're kind of in trouble no matter what we do." I looked at Mr. Schue. "This is it, right?"

"Don't worry your disturbingly square head about it," Santana said. "Brit and I have always been scheduled for tomorrow and apparently Little Miss Drama Whore decided today wasn't for her."

"Listen Santana, I can take the cracks about me being dumb and fat and whatever, but don't be talking 'bout Rachel like that. Plus I'm the one who asked Mr. Schue if we could go tomorrow."

Santana looked surprised. "Who said anything about Rachel?"

My eyes went wide. "Well, you just-" Shit.

"When I say 'drama whore' you just assume I'm talking about Rachel?"

"No, I—"

"Guys, we've had enough fighting for the day. It's time to move on. Mercedes?"

I smiled at him "Right Mr. Schue." At least he had my back, but it wasn't going to help. Santana had set me up. She knew exactly how I'd react to that and had left herself just enough room to turn it around and make me look bad. Yeah I was dumb to fall for it, but I didn't mean anything by it obviously. That wouldn't make much of a difference with Rachel though.

Mercedes walked up to the front and I went over towards Rachel. She looked very mean, but it wasn't like I had any good place to hide. If I didn't sit next to her it would just make things worse.

Mercedes started in with some 70s or 80s disco anthem thing that I recognized but couldn't remember. As I sat down Rachel leaned over and whispered, "What the hell was _that?_"

"I didn't want her to get away with talking about you like that," I said.

"Seriously, drama whore? You thought she was talking about me?"

"Well, I didn't, but I—yeah, OK? Yeah I did. You know how she is."

"How _she_ is? She wasn't even talking about me!"

"You know she was trying to set me up so we'd argue," I said. "She totally does stuff like that!"

"I don't care what she was doing," Rachel said in a pissed of whisper. "You, on the other hand, practically called me a whore in front of the entire class."

"No I didn't... I'd never call you that. She tricked me! On purpose!"

"Being an idiot and falling for it is not an excuse."

That pissed me off. "Oh, so when Quinn calls me stupid you jump on her, then you just turn around and do it yourself? You're being a total hypocrite!" Check and mate. She couldn't argue with that.

"It's not hypocritical because I _don't _think you are stupid. And that is why I'm angry. You're not an idiot, but you did something stupid, and I'm upset about it."

How can she make it sound like she's right even when she's not. I was getting frustrated. "Well I never said you're a—"

"Excuse me!" Mercedes yelled. "Just what do you think you're doing?" The music was still playing but she wasn't singing anymore.

I opened my mouth but Rachel smacked me in the chest before I had a chance to answer. "We're sorry Mercedes. That was disrespectful and I'll make sure Finn doesn't interrupt you again."

Mercedes frowned. "Don't be tryin' to lay this all on your boy. I didn't hear just one person talkin'."

Rachel looked really pissed, but she said, "You're right, I'm sorry. Please—continue."

Mercedes started in from the top, and I tried to focus on her instead of my girlfriend who was staring at me with crazy eyes. Not good crazy eyes. Mercedes calling her out had gotten her even more pissed, and I knew that was going to come back to me too. Somehow everything would be my fault. And I was trying to be a good boyfriend… life sucks sometimes.

Mercedes got a round of applause, and I stood up to leave. Rachel pulled me back down. "When are we rehearsing tonight?"

"I'll stop by your place after practice."

"Which is when?"

_When Coach Bieste says it is_. That was the truth, but I didn't want to come off like a smart ass. The last thing I needed was to piss Rach off more. "I guess maybe like 7:30 or something. But it really depends. Coach is pretty worked up about this game so she's prolly going to keep us later than usual."

Before she could reply, Mike grabbed my shoulder. "Come on man, we're already late."

I smiled at Rach. "I'll see you tonight." She didn't say anything.

Mike and I jogged across the back lot and changed as quickly as we could. At this point though, it probably didn't matter if we walked or ran. When you're the QB, you can't exactly sneak into practice, but if I could quietly check in with Coach Bieste and then take over I'd be in good shape.

I was surprised to see Sam playing quarterback. Yeah, he is the second string quarterback but he should of been in rehearsal with us. He'd mentioned he had a dentist appointment after school, but why would he go straight to practice if he knew we were all rehearsing? I didn't have a chance to ask; Coach Bieste yelled at us as loud as she could (which is really loud) from across the field. "Hudson! Chang! Over here! Now!"

Mike and I sprinted over. Everyone heard her yell, but only a few guys dared look over to see what was up. The problem with being a witness to a Coach Bieste smackdown is that you might get caught up in it. It was way better to just keep on working and find out what happened later.

"Where the hell have you two been?"

Mike and I looked at each other. "Glee rehearsal," I said quietly.

She glared at me for several seconds, then looked over at Mike. "Get out there. Now."

Mike looked at me for a second. He knew I was going to get it for both of us. After all, I was the upperclassman and the glee captain. It made sense I'd be held responsible. Still, he wasn't about to hang around for support. Coach Bieste put her clipboard on a bench and motioned for me to follow her. Normally she had no problem tearing guys down in front of the team, so I was pretty freaked out she wanted privacy. My mind was going like a million miles a minute trying to think what was so horrible she wouldn't want any witnesses.

We ended up in a little storage room under the stands. "What do you expect me to do?" she said.

"I'm sorry?"

"How am I supposed to run practice without the quarterback? And how am I supposed to keep the teams respect if I let you walk all over me?"

"I—I don't—"

"When you don't show up, you're not only letting the team down, you are challenging my authority."

"I'm not trying to—but—"

"You miss more practice than you realize," Bieste said, "And it's plain as a cow's teat that you're pushing the limits of what I'd allow." Eww.

"It's just everything always takes to longer and it's always scheduled at the same time and things get complicated and I try," I said quickly, "I really do. You know the last thing I want to do is let the team down. Let you down."

"And that is why you're here instead of crying in the locker room," she said loudly. "But it's time to get your ass in gear. When the hammer hits the hooch there are two people they are looking at." She pointed at me and then at herself.

"I know, I'm sorry. I'm not trying to make people angry at you or-"

"If you're not here the team loses respect for you. When I tolerate you not being here, they lose respect for me. You can't win if the team doesn't respect the quarterback and the coach."

"I understand."

"I hope you do." She took a deep breath. "I've known you long enough to know what glee club means to you, and if Will Schuester says he needs you I believe him. So I'm not going to stand here and make threats or issue an ultimatum."

"I, uh, yeah, cool. Thanks." I didn't know what an ultimatum was other than something Matt Damon was in but the way she said it made it sound good I wasn't getting one.

"Don't thank me yet Hudson. I'm _not_ making it easy for you. These guys are going to sink or swim based on what _you _do over the next few days. If you can't keep your shit together..." She paused for a second. "If things go badly because of decisions you made, you're going to have to live with that. And for you that would be worse than any punishment I could come up with." She turned away and headed back to the field.

I waited for a few seconds, taking a bunch of deep breaths. She was right. I needed to focus. The only thing worse than getting kicked off the team was fucking the team over. And it _was_ crunch time. I closed my eyes, said, "No pressure," quietly to myself, and walked back outside.

I got a few glances from people who were probably expecting me to have a black eye or something, but nobody said a word. Sam was out there, and to be honest I really admired how hard he was working. He was the second string quarterback, but that didn't matter to him when he was out there; he gave it _everything_. It also reminded me how much I missed that energy in glee. I totally got that he didn't have time for it with a part time job and everything, but things weren't the same without him around all the time. At least I still had him on one of my teams.

Coach Bieste interrupted my thoughts with a smack on the shoulder. "Get out there."

I ran over to Sam. "What are you doing here?" I asked.

He grinned. "Your job at the moment."

"I mean, why weren't you in rehearsal?"

Sam shrugged. "It was pretty late by the time I got back, so I headed here first. Since Puck was already here, I figured rehearsal was over."

"I wasn't here," I said.

"Maybe you stayed late to help Mr. Schue, or Coach sent you on an errand." He gave me a weird look. "What's the big deal?"

"No deal, just-"

"_Quit the yapping and get to work!"_ Bieste yelled from the sideline.

Sam looked back at me, grinned, and said, "I'm relieved."

"What?"

"You are relieving me," he said.

"I got that.. but you said it kinda funny."

"I'm relieved... like from the Star Trek movie, you know, the change of command?"

"Oh, yeah, totally!" I had no clue what he was talking about. I thought the Star Trek movie was about saving the whales or something like that, but I guess there was other stuff in there I'd forgotten. The point is it wasn't important for practice and we needed to keep things moving.

Things started out a little rough, but I wasn't about to let them stay that way. Coach Bieste knew I was a good leader—she'd said so earlier. But I was going to prove it again. It might have been a practice, but I gave it my all. I freaking owned that field. When Coach Bieste finally called it a night, I felt awesome. We knew Marion was going to be tougher than anyone we'd ever played, but we also knew we were better than we'd ever been. For the first time I really felt like we were going to win this thing. As we headed into the locker room, I could see from the looks on guys' faces they felt the same way.

I was a lot less confident about going to see Rachel. It seemed like no matter what, I always managed to say something that pissed her off. I was pissed too, mainly with myself—Santana was screwing with me and I fell for her trap. I should of seen that coming—it was Santana after all.

I tried to prepare myself for anything, but I was expecting Kurt to answer the door. "Hey! Rachel is putting some snacks for you guys."

"What are you doing here?" I also wanted to know what kind of snacks because I was hungry but when Kurt and Rachel are in the kitchen you can end up with some weird stuff, but I figure the 'why are you here' was more important.

"I was just on my way out, actually."

"That doesn't answer my question."

He looked at me for a second then shrugged. "Rachel and I decided we should go get coffee after rehearsal and got talking for a while. Then I drove her here and stayed to help with the vegetable platters."

"Vegetable platters? I thought you said she was making _snacks_."

Kurt frowned. "Vegetables _are_ food Finn."

"No, they're what food _eats_."

"Are you saying I'm food?" Rachel asked as she entered the hallway.

I smiled a bit. "Possibly. You _are_ very sweet." It was kind of lame, but the other thing I wanted to say would of definitely pissed Rachel off.

Kurt rolled his eyes. "I do need to get going," Kurt said. "I promised Blaine I'd help him pack."

"But he doesn't leave until tomorrow?" I asked.

Kurt frowned. "Amazingly, some people pack more than 45 minutes in advance." He raised his eyebrows. "Speaking of which, you said you'd get the tent together for tomorrow night."

"Yeah, I know." That was like a whole 24 hours away.

Kurt said goodnight to both of us and I followed Rachel into the kitchen where she grabbed a plate of things she was going to try and get me to eat. Then we went up to the room.

"I need to apologize," she said as we sat down on her bed.

I looked at her in surprise. "Apologize?" It might seem obvious what she was apologizing about, but I wasn't going to jump to conclusions on anything. Santana had just reminded me why I can't jump to conclusions when Rach is around.

"Yes. About earlier when you called me a drama whore."

"I didn't call you a whore," I said firmly.

"But you jumped on what she said in a way that sent me the wrong message."

That didn't really sound like an apology to me. "I jumped on what she said because I love you."

"I know, and that's why I'm sorry." She grabbed my shoulder. "I don't want you to think that I don't appreciate you looking out for me. I can't expect you to protect me and then criticize you for a little slip up like that. It isn't fair."

I wrapped my arm around her. "I'll protect you no matter what."

She smiled. "I love you so much."

"I love you Rachel." I gave her a kiss.

After a few seconds she pulled away. "I don't deserve you."

"Don't be stupid," I said.

"You're kind, you're caring, you'd do anything to help others and you're always ready to forgive. I'm none of that."

I put my face a few inches in front of hers, almost so our noses were touching, and smiled. "You're all of that, Rach. You just get worked up sometimes and don't let people see it." I leaned back on the bed. "Plus you're talented, super smart, and smokin' hot. You want to talk about not deserving—how's a guy like me get someone like _you_?" OK, I know in the whole high-school clique world that's kind of a stupid question. But the real world isn't high school. Love doesn't care who runs in what crowd. All it cares about who is the right person. And who is willing to accept you for who you are, good and bad. I mean, with like six million people on the planet, so what are the chances that I'd find that person in Ohio? How freaking _lucky_ is that?

Rach smiled. "Well, you _are_ talented, super-" she paused for just a second "-you're smarter than you realize."

"Nice save."

"It wasn't a save, Finn. I'm serious. You know how to get things done. You know how to motivate people. Knowing the capitol of Idaho or the number of neutrons in uranium is great, but it doesn't make the world work. People like you make things _happen_."

"I don't know..." Yeah I'm pretty good at getting things done sometimes, but that isn't really being smart, is it? At least not the type of colleges are looking for.

"And you're smokin' hot too."

I don't think colleges care about that either. It also brought up something I wanted to ask Rachel about. It wasn't a big deal, but after her criticizing me about saying the wrong thing, I thought a little role reversal would be sort of fair. "If I'm really that hot, I'm kind of confused about something you said today."

"What?" Rachel looked concerned. Good.

"It's just that when Santana was criticizing how I was, you know, in—"

"I know," she interrupted. "You know she's just trying to make you feel bad."

"I got that, yeah," I said, a little annoyed she wouldn't let me finish my sentence. "It's just, what you said."

Rachel frowned. "What I said?"

"You said I was 'fine'?"

Her eyebrows went up. "And?"

"I just thought you might have something more, you know, awesome-sounding or whatever."

Rachel smiled. "More awesome sounding? Like awesome?"

"I guess, yeah."

"Amazing."

"Exactly"

"Fantastic."

I smiled. "Yeah."

"Transcendent."

The smile went away. "Uh... Not really sure what that means."

Wrapped her arms around me and gave me a long, passionate kiss. Then, very slowly, she got a really big, really goofy smile. "I guess I'll need to show you then."

**A/N: Reviews and comments are always greatly appreciated. As always thanks to Wood-u-like-2-no for his help!**


	17. Brilliant Disguise?

A little later that night we got around to rehearsing the song. Rachel had come up with choreography and everything. I mean I knew she _would_, but I guess I just hoped that since it wasn't really a _dancing_ song she'd do something really simple. No luck with that.

It actually went pretty smoothly. It was the normal thing of her telling me to do something and me trying to do it and not being good enough. Then she either gets supportive or frustrated depending on how hard she thinks _I'm _working. Apparently she thought I was pulling my weight that night and didn't go too crazy on me.

I was seriously tired by the time I got home, but couldn't get to sleep . There was just too much going on, and I just kind of laid there thinking about the performances and the game and even what kind of crap the school paper was going to write about me. I got to sleep eventually, but It wasn't a good sleep. I was exhausted the next morning.

I was carpooling with Kurt and he insisted that we get going early because of the rain. I'm not sure why he thinks the trip takes longer in the rain; traffic isn't really a big issue in Lima. Especially with like two lights between home and school. But I was too tired to care.

"You look like you just got out of the shower," he said as we pulled out of the driveway.

"I'm trying to sleep over here." I thought the fact my eyes were closed was a good hint.

"We'll be there by the time you actually get to sleep," Kurt said.

"Maybe, but I want to try."

Kurt grumbled and was quiet for almost a minute. Then he said, "You're such an attractive guy it's a shame when you don't take the time to showcase how good you look."

I gave him a nasty look. That was pushing some boundaries. I guess it doesn't look that bad when you read it, but they way he said it was not the way one dude talks to another dude if the first dude knows the other dude isn't interested in him. Of course, Kurt knew that. He was just screwing with me.

"Dude, I'm going to, like, sit in class all day and then practice football _in the mud_. Who the hell cares?"

"I do."

"You shouldn't."

He shook his head. "What about Rachel?

I smiled just a bit. "We talked last night. I don't think I have anything to worry about with Rachel."

Kurt scoffed. "From her text it didn't sound like things went to well last night." My mouth dropped open.

"What! She texted…"

"Yes. This morning. I'd show you if I wasn't driving. Something about being 'slow and lacking passion.'"

I could feel my face turning red. "What—the—fuck?"

"Finn—chill. It's not the first time someone has criticized your dancing."

"My dancing?"

"Yeah… she said the vocals were—wait, what did you think I was talking about?"

"My dancing," I shot back quickly.

Kurt shook his head and got a tiny smile. "You wouldn't get that upset if you thought I was talking about dancing."

"I'm very sensitive about my dancing," I said. Which wasn't a total lie. I joke about it and stuff, but sometimes when everyone gangs up on me and cracks jokes it does get to me. That said I wouldn't be surprised if Rachel had something about my dancing, and Kurt knew it.

"You—" The tiny smile got big and evil-looking. "You did—"

"Don't go there."

Kurt shrugged. "Alright, I can respect your privacy."

"Thank you."

"And get details later from Rachel."

"Fuck you."

Kurt looked really smug but didn't say anything, and I didn't really care because I got a few seconds of silence before we parked. As I got out of the car, he said, "Lighten up, Finn." I just shook my head and walked off.

The halls were crowded, which was pretty normal this time of year. When it's nice out guys will hang outside before class, but when it is cold and rainy everyone ends up inside blocking the halls. As I pushed my way through I saw Sam standing next to his locker. When he spotted me he waved the school paper he had in his hands. "Sorry, man."

I stopped walking and looked at him. "Sorry?"

He pointed at the paper. I took it from him. My article took up most of the front page. On the right side they had a head to toe picture of me in my football gear, which would be cool except I was yelling at someone and looked really pissed off. I looked like a real asshole. I guess people would get that everyone looks bad when they are angry and I probably had a reason to be yelling, but still—there must be pictures of me smiling somewhere.

I glanced over the page quickly and looked back at Sam. "Where's the article?" I asked. He pointed to a blurb under my picture—'Editorial on Page 3'. "They don't put editorials on the front page," he explained.

I opened it to page three, where there were a bunch of smaller pictures across the top—one of me on the field that looked pretty cool, one of me on stage and frowning, and one of the kissing booth I'd set up the year before. Then I actually read the headline:

Behind the Mask: The Real Finn Hudson  
by Carlos Vasquez

"Wait, what does Carlos have to do with this?" I asked.

Sam gave me a funny look. "I'm going to take a guess and say he wrote the article."

"No I mean-I interviewed with Marty and Marty is cool..."

"This dude sure isn't." His eyes narrowed. "What did you do to piss him off?"

"Um-we-uh..." It was a long list. The fact was the second I saw Carlos's name I knew this wasn't going to be good. Well, actually I sort of read the title before the by-line so I kind of knew it wasn't going to be good before I read his name, and technically Sam had sort of hinted it wouldn't be good either, but the point was when I saw it was by Carlos I really knew it was really probably bad news. And I mean bad news for me, not in like the bad news you read in a newspaper like there was a giant oil spill or a pizza shortage or something. "It was freshman year, and we-you know how things are..."

"You bullied him?"

"We... yeah." Carlos was a short kid with a funny accent who dressed like he was from the 70s. You better believe we screwed with him. Now I know how totally wrong it was, but back then he practically had a target painted on him that Puck, me, and the other guys couldn't ignore. "What did he say?"

Instead of answering, Sam tapped the paper in my hand so I started reading.

When asked to describe Finn Hudson, most McKinley students point to his accomplishments: the first quarterback to win a conference championship, or perhaps the glee club captain who led a two-year old singing group to a national competition. But who is the real Finn Hudson, and does he deserve the adulation that has been poured upon him? The truth is darker than many people realize.

Freshman year saw Hudson as the prototypical high school bully, using his social standing and physical size to intimidate those he deemed lesser individuals. Along with his cohorts on the football team, Hudson terrorized those powerless to protect themselves.

How does such a thug go to from football jock to glee club captain? How did he go from tormenting those he deemed unfit to singing with them in a few short months? Simply put, he reinvented himself to suit the times.

Driven by an insatiable desire for popularity and an unfathomably large ego, Hudson determined being the preeminent member of the popular crowd was not enough. He wanted to be idolized by all students, not only those he considered members of the elite social class. In order to do this, he reinvented his image, tricking others into believing that their one-time tormenter now cared about them. The great Finn Hudson is an illusion, carefully conceived to cover the dark truth.

I glared at Sam. There were a few words in there I wasn't sure about, but overall I got the idea. "He seriously thinks I joined glee to be _popular_?" I gasped. I clenched my fists tight enough that my nails started to dig into my palm. "He has no fucking idea how…" I paused for a second. "Puck shot me," I said quietly. "He fucking shot me."

"Evidently it wasn't fatal," Sam said.

"Paintball, but—" Technically Puck said it was for lying to the guys, but they totally would have done it anyway if I'd told them the truth. "I was afraid if I joined my rep would be destroyed. I'd be nobody. I probably wouldn't have if Mr. Schue hadn't—" Shut up Finn.

"Hadn't what?"

"It's not important."

"The thing that pushed you over the edge to join glee club wasn't important?" Sam asked. "Fine, whatever."

I gave him a look that made it clear I didn't want to talk about it anymore. I'd just gotten slammed by the school paper, the last thing I wanted to do was go into sensitive stuff in my past, but he gave me a look that made it clear he was pissed I didn't trust him enough to spill.

I took a deep breath and tried to calm down. "Look-Mr. Schue did me a big favor and stuck his neck out for me, and all he wanted was for me to give glee a chance."

"It's something that could get Mr. Schue in trouble, isn't it?" Sam asked. He knows how I think.

"I don't know, but maybe. He covered my ass on something that wasn't my fault but could've been real bad for me. I'm not really sure if he was supposed to or not so just, you know, keep it on the DL."

"I got ya," Sam said. "So really, he did you two big favors."

"Huh?"

"The first one, and making you try glee."

I nodded. Before I had the chance to say anything someone was smacking the side of my head. "That's what you get for talking to the paper douches," Puck said.

I turned around to look at him. The side of my head was sore but I didn't rub it. I didn't want Puck to know how much that had actually hurt. "Dude, I know not to talk to the assholes... but I interviewed with Marty. He's cool. I don't know what happened."

"You didn't hear?" Puck asked. I shook my head no. "Marty got sick in fourth period-left early."

"Wait-fourth period? Ms. Strum's class?" Sam asked.

"I don't have my copy of his schedule on me," Puck said sarcastically.

"I heard some dude puked on Katie Pierce in Ms. Strum's class yesterday," Sam said. "It must've been him."

Puck's eyes lit up. "He puked _on_ her? Nice."

"How is that nice?" I asked.

"Well it probably explains how Carlos got the article," Sam said.

Puck shrugged. "Tough break man. Though I do like the part where he calls you a prostitute."

"He what?" I asked.

Puck smiled. "The kissing both. The whole making girls pay to kiss you. You gotta admit, he sorta has a point."

"But it was to raise money for glee, and it was a kiss, not like... sex or something."

"Yeah, that makes it totally normal," Puck said. "Prostitution for charity, though, you may be on to something."

I frowned. That was such a Puck idea. "I'm definitely not."

"No, seriously, if I could hook up with a hot chick and then give fifty bucks to the United Nations or whatever I'd totally do that."

"I think you mean United Way," Sam said.

"I don't really care as long as I get laid... my point is people would do a lot more giving if there was some hot ass involved."

Sam shook his head then looked at me. "The prostitution thing is over the top, but you need to admit it wasn't the smartest thing you could have done. Thinking every girl in school would _want_ to kiss you kind of comes off as an ego-trip."

I let out a pissed-off sigh. Maybe he had a point about it looking egotistical or whatever, but I wasn't really in the mood to talk about it. After all, I just got ripped up in the school paper and I needed my friends to be supportive, not join in.

"And of course he goes after you for the other day," Puck said.

"At the mall?" I asked. They both nodded. I sighed again and handed the paper back to Sam. "This blows."

"The author's a toolbag." Puck smiled slightly. "We know how to handle this."

"I'm not going to beat him up." I wanted to though. I really wanted to. I knew I shouldn't feel that way, but I couldn't help it. I was angry. But I wasn't going to let Carlos or Puck or anyone else to push me to do something I shouldn't.

"Beating him up would only validate his point," Sam said.

"Just scare him a little. Make him think he's gonna get his ass kicked if he keeps fucking with you."

I shook my head no.

"You have to do _something_," Puck insisted.

"No, I don't."

Puck cupped his hands around his mouth and did a really bad impression that sounded like a Principal Figgins over the loudspeaker if he had one of those throat-hole things you get when you smoke too much. "Finn Hudson to the front office please, Hudson to the front office- your balls in the lost and found. Finn Hudson, to the front office to collect your balls."

I glared at him. "Not today man. Not in the mood."

Puck shrugged. "You better get in the mood, 'cause you're going to get a _lot_ worse comin' your way if you don't pull your head out of your ass and do something."

"Sometimes if you just ignore something it goes away." I narrowed my eyes. "Like that rash you got after sleeping with-"

"Bad example. I ended up needing a prescription for that." Here I was thinking he'd be embarrassed enough to shut up and he's sounding fucking proud of it. "Look, man, I'm not trying to get you in trouble or break your good boy image, but sometimes you need to step up and protect your rep. You better think about that, 'cause if you let this twerp walk all over you you'll end up with something a lot worse than a slushy in your face."

"People know me. They aren't going to think I'm someone else just 'cause the fucking paper says so."

Sam had a strange look. "Just like you've never believed a lie in the paper."

"What do you mean?" I asked.

"Remember when it said I was hooking up with Quinn back when you two were dating last year."

"But that was different," I said. "Quinn had cheated before-she'd done stuff like that."

Sam raised an eyebrow. "And you've _never_ bullied anyone or done anything mean."

"I never-not recently-look, it's different." I don't know why, but it just _had_ to be different.

"If you say so."

"So what do you want me to do?"

"I told you what to do dumbass," Puck said. He was getting frustrated. So was I. Like I said, I wanted to beat up Carlos. I knew it was wrong, but that didn't make it less appealing at the moment. So the fact that Puck kept bringing it up wasn't making things any easier for me. But maybe that was his angle.

"I can't beat him up."

Puck poked me in the stomach. "You're a little soft but I think you could take him." I wasn't in the mood for this bullshit. I used my shoulder to jam Puck up against the lockers and he groaned. "Jackass."

"How's that?"

Sam was smiling. "You asked for it."

Puck frowned. "You'll rough me up but you won't touch that little puke?"

"You've got to be kidding me." It wasn't like I'd actually been trying to hurt him, just shut him up. Plus Puck's a friend, so it's different.

"Whatever. Fine. You want to ignore how the world works? Solve your own goddamn problem." With that he walked off, rubbing his shoulder.

Sam gave me a nasty look.

"You _just_ said he asked for it," I said.

"He did. My locker didn't." Sam slowly opened the door of his locker, looking at the small dent Puck's elbow had made in it.

"Sorry man, it wasn't like I was aiming for yours."

He shrugged. "Still works ok." He threw a few books in and then slammed the door. "But if anyone brings it up, it was your fault..."

"Yeah—whatever." Seriously? With all the crap that goes down in these halls he thinks Figgins or somebody is going to notice a dent in his locker?

"If anyone asks you tripped and fell into it… anyway, I need to get to class. See ya."

"Later." I swung by my locker to drop off some books and headed to first period. I got the same glances walking to class I did when the dumb Dancing Queen video hit YouTube. No one said a word, but I had the feeling the whole thing could go down the tubes fast. Sam was right-the paper brainwashed people. Stuff that would be gossip in the lunchroom became fact in the paper. It was strange.

When I got to class, found a seat in the back, and fell asleep.

The bell woke me up, which was good because it would have been really obvious I was sleeping if everyone else left and I was the only one in the room. Even though Miss Clever has really crappy eyesight she would of picked up on me being the only person left in the room. I grabbed my bag and headed to second period.

Luckily it was a short walk to Mr. Schue's classroom. I took a seat near the front, and was surprised when Todd Morgan and his buddies sat down around me. Todd is what we call a hockey puke. He's like the ultimate stereotype of the asshole jock, and proud of it. So I guess I wasn't surprised... I knew why he was there.

"What's goin' on in Finland these days?" Todd asked.

I rolled my eyes. He's a dumbass. "You know Finland is a city in Europe."

"Really? That sure is interesting." He paused for just a second. "I was real sorry to hear about that paper article. I mean, I'd hate to have all my dirty laundry out there for people to read."

"Thanks for your understanding," I said sarcastically. I knew the fake niceness was part of the gag. The real angle would come out soon enough.

"I get it man. It sucks." He leaned closer to me. "There is one thing, though, and I hate to ask, but you know how that curiosity bug gets going..." He paused like he expected me to answer that, but I just sighed. "Yeah... so, I just want to know-how much does she pay..."

My eyes narrowed. "What?"

"Because if it's good, I might be up for taking her off your hands from time to time, you know, if you need a break."

I turned to face him. I knew exactly what he was going for now. And I didn't like it. "Don't go there."

"I'll be discreet. It makes so much more sense now though-now that I know the whole deal is for profit. I mean someone like you going out with a little bitch like her, it just doesn't-"

I knew he was baiting me—kind of like Santana had done the day before, but way more obvious. This time though, I just didn't care what he was doing. "If you want to make it through the day without a broken jaw," I yelled, "you better shut the fuck up right now!"

The room was suddenly very quiet. I looked up and saw Mr. Schue standing in the front of the classroom, one row of desks in front of me. He was staring straight at me and didn't look happy. I hadn't seen him come in. I felt cold inside, kind of like that feeling you get when a cop pulls out behind you and you know you were speeding. Except, at least to me, pissing off Mr. Schue is way worse than any ticket.

"Let's get started. We'll take a look at homework in second." Mr. Schue glanced down at his notes. "First, go ahead and give exercise 2 on page 338 a try." He put down his notes and walked over to me. "Can I see you in the hall?"

I nodded and followed him out the door. As soon as it closed I went defensive. "I'm sorry, but when he started saying stuff about Rachel I—"

Mr. Schue looked very serious. "Stop acting tough, Finn. You know he's just pushing you to get a reaction." Mr. Schue's expression got less intense, and then he asked, "How are you doing?"

"How am I-?" I was kind of expecting a the full 'don't threaten other students treatment' not a 'how's it going?'. Students threaten to beat up other students all the time, but whenever a teacher overhears it they make a big deal about it.

"You've had a rough week. Between the problem in the mall, what Sue Sylvester did, and now the newspaper—you've had enough bad things happen in the past week to last for the rest of the year."

"I guess, but I'm dealing."

He nodded towards the classroom. "That wasn't dealing. You lost your cool. I know you want to defend Rachel, but normally you'd figure out a better way to handle it."

"Maybe. I don't know... I guess I... I sort of knew what was going on, ya know? Like I knew I shouldn't react, but I guess I just didn't really care."

Mr. Schue nodded. "I understand."

"Really? So I'm not in trouble?"

Mr. Schue frowned a little. "You threatened another student. In front of the class. I can't just look the other way." He paused for a second. "And I shouldn't."

I was confused. Was he going to throw the book at me? Not a real book, but the one people me when they talk about throwing a book. "You shouldn't?"

"You're upset Finn. I'm not saying you were going to do anything to Todd, or to anyone else, but I can't discount the possibility-tiny as it might be-that something could make you snap and do something you'd regret later."

"Come on, Mr. Schue..." I pleaded.

"You're angry, you're frustrated, you're stressed. It's a recipe for bad things to happen. I'm not saying they would, but I want to make sure."

"So you're sending me to the Principal's Office because of something I _might_ do?" That didn't seem very Mr. Schue to me.

He smiled a little, which I wasn't expecting.. "School policy says that a teacher has the discretion to send a student to a guidance counselor instead of the office in the event of a non-physical disciplinary issue."

"Are you saying I can go talk to Ms. Pillsbury instead of going to the office?"

He nodded. "Maybe you have things under control, maybe everything will be fine, but still… I think it might be good for you to talk to Ms. Pillsbury. Just in case."

"Yeah, plus it beats the office."

"I'm serious Finn. Give this a chance, be honest and open."

"I will... promise."

He glanced in the classroom and then looked back at me. "Grab your books in case you go straight to next period."

"You mean go now?"

Me. Schue nodded again. "Take as long as you need. I'll either see you back here or at rehearsal."

"Ok, um, thanks Mr. Schue!"

I still wasn't really sure what I was going to be talking about. I didn't really want to spend half an hour explaining what had happened that week and why it pissed me off. It wasn't like it would change anything. Ms. Pillsbury was nice and everything, but she couldn't undo the past. All we could do was talk about things that I would rather forget-but I'd promised Mr. Schue.

Ms. Pillsbury was in her office when I got there. She was rearranging some pens and pencils on her desk and it looked like she couldn't decide how she wanted to do it. I opened the door a few inches and knocked. "Mr. Schue said I should stop by."

She pushed everything to one side. "Good… great… come in." After I sat down she asked, "So what did you want to talk about?"

Mr. Schue said be honest. "I'm not really sure really. It's just that, well, you know it's been a rough week and Mr. Schue thought you might be able to, um, I guess make me feel better or something."

"You don't sound very enthusiastic about it."

"It's just that… like, the stuff happened, there is nothing I can do about it, so why talk about it?"

"You might not be able to reverse what happened, but it can still help to talk about it, understand it, and learn from it. Part of maturing is learning from our experiences, and if we box them up and ignore them we can't learn from them."

"What am I supposed to learn from a newspaper that prints fake stories about me?"

"That's not an easy question to answer. I know it is painful when people say things about you that aren't true."

"I get that I haven't always been super nice to everyone, and I can live with being called out enough on stuff I did. Not like I like it, but I guess I sorta deserve it or whatever. But I seriously don't need people making stuff up just to make my life harder."

"Is that why he did it? To make your life harder?"

"I guess so… I mean, why else?"

"It took you some time to figure out who you were. Maybe you're expecting too much when you think everyone else knows."

"So like... he doesn't realize I've changed?"

"Have you ever told him?"

"Uh..."

"Do you talk with him at all?"

"Not really, but I sorta thought he'd figure it out on his own, I mean it's been like two years since I gave him a swirly. And the whole popularity thing doesn't even make sense... do you know the kind of hit my rep took when I joined glee?"

"First impressions are hard to break. Even if you haven't done anything to him recently, he's looking for the bad in you because that's all he knows."

"Really? I mean, how are you sure it's not just some kind of revenge thing?"

"I'm not. But if you assume that about him, it wouldn't be any better than him assuming you haven't changed."

"Man... I feel even worse about that stuff I did to him. It's like I know how wrong it was, but I never thought about how it would stick with someone like that, ya know?"

Ms. Pillsbury looked me in the eye. "Then tell him that."

"I guess I can try."

"I think I might have something else that could help." She looked through a bunch of brochures behind her desk and handed me 'So Your Chickens are Coming Home to Roost'."

I took it. "Um... ok."

"It's about dealing with things in your past you're not proud of," she said. "But the important thing is to understand him and have him understand you."

"Ok... I'll try."

She smiled. "Good. But remember, whatever he says, what matters is who you are now. You're a good person Finn. If he just doesn't like you, it won't diminish that"

"Thanks Ms. Pillsbury."

She smiled. "Good luck."

**A/N: As always, thanks to all of you who take the time to read, favorite, and especially, review! And a special thanks to wood-u-like-2-no for his beta reading efforts!**


	18. Stuck Like Glue

**A/N—With the show off the air for a few weeks I thought I'd try and do my small part to help out. As always, thanks to Wood-u-like-2-no for his excellent help!**

Between football and glee, my I knew my after school schedule was going to be crazy. That meant I needed to catch Carlos at lunch. But since we didn't have the same lunch period, I was going to need to come up with a creative plan.

I raised my hand. "Ms. Spaulding?"

"Yes Finn."

"Can I go to the bathroom?" It kind of sucks, but Ms. Spaulding makes you ask every time you want to leave the classroom. Apparently she hasn't realized she's teaching high school. So whenever you got to take a leak you pretty much need to announce it to the whole class, and she never just says yes.

"You should have gone between classes."

"I didn't have to go then," I said. Sometimes I think her game is that if she makes it tough enough, or embarrassing enough, to take a bathroom break no one will. And that is sort of true; normally I'd just wait. But this wasn't normally. "It's, uh, kinda urgent.

She leaned forwarded and pointed to a paper on her desk. "Sign out." I wrote my name and the time on the paper, and headed out into the hallway. It was pretty busy—about a third of the school was heading to lunch.

I found Carlos at his locker. If Ms. Pillsbury was right, all I needed to do was be nice. I can do nice. "Can I talk with you for a second?"

"I don't have anything to say to you," he snapped back.

I smiled a bit. I was just trying to be nice but I guess he could've taken it the wrong way. "Oh I think you do…" I nodded to the empty classroom across the hall. "Let's go."

"How about not?"

"Dude, I just want to talk," I said a bit firmer.

"I'm heading to lunch."

I started to roll my eyes, but caught myself. "I think after you totally humiliated me in front of everyone I deserve to know why. I just want to talk. I'm not going to beat you up or anything."

"I'm not worried about _that_. My article has a lot of people fairly confident you're an asshole. Beating me up for it would remove all doubt."

"I'm not going to beat you up because I don't do that." I sighed. "I just… I want to know. Was this, like some kind of revenge, or do you seriously think that I'm still that person?"

"I report the facts," Carlos said.

That didn't really answer my question, and it wasn't really true either. I leaned against the locker. I figured if I looked chill maybe it would help him relax. Assuming he wanted to relax. I was starting to wonder. "The guy—the guy you talked about in the article, the guy who did all that shit to you—he totally deserves to suffer for it."

"You threw me in the dumpster."

"I'm sorry."

"You teased me about being a Mexican."

"That was wrong."'

"I'm from Brazil."

"Then it was dumb too."

"You gave me dog shit in a tootsie roll wrapper and told me it was candy."

"That was kind of funny-but wrong." I hoped he couldn't tell how hard I was trying not to smile. It was a really horrible thing to do to someone but his face when he opened that thing was priceless. I hate myself for thinking it was funny, but I just can't help it. "I know you got a whole list, and I wish there was something I could do to show you how sorry I was. But you need to understand I'm not that guy anymore. I never want to be that guy again."

He thought about that for a few seconds. "No."

"No… what?" I was confused. That wasn't really a yes or no question. Actually it wasn't really a question.

"Obviously you want some kind of apology and me to retract the allegations I made. But even if I _did_ believe you had somehow gone from bully to humanitarian, it doesn't change what you've done. The story is still accurate."

I stood up my full height took a step closer to him. So much for looking chill. Still, I was proud I managed not to raise my voice at all. "But it isn't... I mean, I get if you want to talk about stuff I've done. I can't hide the past just 'cause I'm not proud of it. But the whole 'everything I do now is a lie to be popular' thing-that's totally untrue!"

"You don't want to be popular?"

"No of course I do, but—look, I've learned that doing what's right is more important than what's popular. And if what's right is popular, great, but that's not _why_ I do it."

"Do you have any proof?"

I could feel my chest getting tight. He seriously wanted proof? The proof is what I do every day! The proof was what everyone—well almost everyone—in glee would say if he bothered to ask. But the problem wasn't that there wasn't proof, or that it wasn't good enough, it was he didn't _want_ to see it. "So this is just about revenge… I figured maybe you just hadn't known how I changed or whatever, and that's fine, but the whole making up lies for revenge is really uncool."

"You said yourself you deserve what's coming."

I took a deep breath. "I'm not trying to say I'm perfect or hide from the past or anything, but I just want you—everyone really—but especially you, to see me for who I am now. Not who I was. And def not who you wrote about in that article."

He smiled. "We hope people we see us a certain way. Treat us a certain way. It's funny how that works." His eyes narrowed. "Good chat Hudson, but I need to run. Enjoy sitting by yourself at lunch today." He started to walk away.

"Wait, I—"

Carlos looked back at me. "Welcome to the other side of life."

I should of just let things go at the point, but instead I quickly walked between him and the lunchroom. "No, that's not how it works," I said. "You don't get to just go out there and tell lies about me."

He smiled slightly. "I'm not afraid of you anymore. You can't just tell me what to do."

"I'm not telling you-" I took a deep breath. "OK, maybe I sort of am, but I'm—I'm asking you to be a good person. It's that simple. Do the right thing. Please."

The smile disappeared. "Do you know how many times I asked you and your friends to be good people? To do the right thing? You're the one that taught me that doesn't matter." With that, he walked past me.

For a second I thought about yelling after him, something like 'this isn't over' or 'you're never going to bring me down' but managed to hold off. Things hadn't gone the way I'd thought they would, but getting all upset wasn't going to help. I'd thought we'd sit down, have a heart to heart, and he'd realize I was a good guy. He'd feel bad about what he did, and at least apologize-maybe even offer to write another story or something. But now that wasn't going to happen; whatever damage control was needed was up to me. But even that wasn't the worst thing. Carlos had been a good kid once, a smart guy from the other Americas who moved to the US with his family. We picked on him because he was different and because we were stupid. But now he was the one picking on people-that good person was now a bully. And it was my fault. He'd said it himself, and the words echoed in my head: 'You're the one that taught me it doesn't matter.' I groaned and shoved my head against a locker. It really sucked. But there was nothing I could too.

I managed to get enough sleep during my afternoon classes that I felt pretty good going into practice. After changing and dropping my stuff in my locker I headed out to the field. Things went OK I guess; I kept thinking of how much that afternoons performance was going to mean to Rachel and trying to figure out when Coach Bieste was going to let me go. It was distracting enough that I tripped over one of my own linemen on what should have been a simple running play. As I pulled myself off the ground I saw Coach Bieste walking over.

"What the hell was _that_?" she growled.

I was still trying to get the mud off my sleeves. "It was my fault. I wasn't supposed to go that far right."

"I need 100% Hudson. This isn't the time to be slipping up." She frowned. "I don't need people getting injured the night before a championship game."

"Totally."

Cocah Bieste made a face like she was chewing on her tongue or something. Maybe she was. She didn't seem angry, just frustrated, but after a few seconds of silence I started to brace myself. Then she said the last thing I was expecting. "Take 15 and do your glee thing."

I was caught off guard. "Wha—really?"

"You're no good to me if you're distracted. Get it done, and get your ass back here in 15 minutes."

"I, thank you—you got it!"

Knowing that I only had a few minutes, I decided to take the shortcut across the back parking lot instead of going in through the locker room. It was shorter this way, plus I could run without anyone complaining. Normally no one cracked down on the no running in the hallways rule after school let out, but technically it was 24/7 thing and I didn't want to go to detention again.

The only big problem with staying outside is you need to get back inside, and the doors nearest the choir room are locked from the outside after school, so I needed someone to let me in. That wasn't a problem except I realized when I changed for practice I'd left my phone in the locker room. So instead of quietly texting Kurt or Blaine to let me in, I ran around the back of the choir room. What sucks is instead of real windows, we have those little ones up near the ceiling. So I had to jump up, smack the glass, and try and point towards the door I needed to be let in. The windows are way higher on the outside than the inside so I couldn't actually see in, but they should of at least seen my hands from inside, so after about 30 seconds I figured someone would have gotten the right idea.

I was right—Kurt was already at the door when I got there, but he hadn't opened it.

"Open it!" I yelled.

"It's locked!" he yelled back. I could barely here him through the door.

"That's why _you_ need to open it!"

He rolled his eyes. "It's locked from this side too!"

"Shit," I said quietly to myself.

"What?"

"I said shit!" I didn't have time for this crap. It took me a few seconds, but I came up with a solid plan B. I pointed to the window a few feet from the door. "Open that!"

"The window?"

"Yeah!" Kurt fussed with the window for a few seconds and it popped open. I grabbed the sides of the window and started to pull myself through. Freshman year we figured out the windows were just big enough to squeeze through, and it was a lot easier to sneak out during class when you didn't use any doors. I hadn't crawled through one in a while, but I figured at most I was maybe an inch or two taller than freshman year, and that wouldn't really matter anyway.

I got my head through but my shoulders got jammed against the frame. That's when I realized that back when I'd done this before I wasn't wearing pads. I twisted back and forth a few times but it didn't do anything.

Kurt was staring at me. "You ok?"

"I'm… I think I'm stuck." Actually I knew I was, and it wasn't like Kurt hadn't figured that out already. At least after school the hall was empty; during the middle of the day it would of really sucked.

"Finn, sometimes I-" he took a deep breath. "How can I help?"

"I need to ditch these pads," I said. I was trying to do it myself at that point, but my arms were already through the window and there was no way to reach behind me and unhook them.

Kurt tried, but there wasn't enough room for him to get his arms around me. "This isn't going to work."

"Well, just, uh, pull."

He grabbed my hands and started pulling. I kept trying to push with my legs, but ended up digging a muddy hole with my feet. Finally we both gave up.

"I'm going to need to find help." He started to walk off.

"Kurt…" I said. He turned around. "Thanks for, you know, helping, and not… you know… joking about it and stuff."

Kurt smiled reassuringly. "Right now I just want you to get out of there safely." The smile suddenly got a lot bigger. "There will be plenty of time later to make fun of you."

"Kurt—"

"Just relax. Don't go anywhe-never mind. I'll be right back." He walked back to the choir room, and a few seconds later the entire glee club was in the hall. Rachel was running.

"What happened?" she demanded as she passed Kurt in the hall. Then she saw me. Her eyes got wide and for a second I thought she was actually going to cry. "Finn!"

"Rachel, I—" I could feel myself turning red.

"Are you ok?" No making fun, no joking, no laughing. Just real concern. It reminded me why I love her so much: when the going gets tough, she's always there for me. Still, for this one, I kind of wished she hadn't been there at all. It was whole new level of humiliation.

I smiled as much as I could. "Yeah babe, I'm fine."

"This is like—I don't know what this is," Artie said.

"The sad thing is that I'm not surprised," Quinn said quietly.

Santana was smirking. "That cheeseburger-based diet doesn't seem like such a good idea anymore, huh?"

"That's not why I'm—my pads are stuck."

"Is that what you're calling your manboobs now?"

Mr. Schue had a weird look. I could tell he was concerned, but he also wanted to laugh and was trying really hard not to. "Finn—how did you—do I even want to know?"

"Coach Bieste told me to move fast, and the door was locked so I thought I'd try the window."

Mr. Schue raised an eyebrow. "That seemed like a good idea?"

I tried to shrug but I was wedged to tight. "Until I got stuck."

Mr. Schue shook his head and turned to the group. "Kurt, Blaine, grab his left arm, as close to the shoulder as you can get. Rory, help me with his right." Everyone moved into position. "Let us know if you need us to stop pulling."

I nodded. I knew what that meant: this could hurt. I told myself it couldn't be any worse than hits I'd had on the field and clenched my teeth.

Mr. Schue gave me a little smile, then told everyone, "On three—one, two, three." I heard a cracking noise that I hoped was my pads and then I was on the floor. My shoulders were about as sore as they'd ever been. With a little help from Blaine I rolled over onto my back and looked up at everyone.

Rachel kneeled down next to me. "Are you OK? How do you feel?"

"I'll be fine," I said, wincing a little. I could tell I was going to be sore for a while. I looked over to Mr. Schue. "Thanks."

Mr. Schue shook his head again. "I've never pulled a student out of a window before."

"I'm guessing not many teachers have," Quinn said.

I couldn't help but smile a little. "Not like my greatest idea ever I guess."

"How do you feel?" Mr. Schue asked.

"Just sore and stuff." I stood up and realized I was more than sore—I ached like an entire defensive line had just piled on top of me. Hanging from your shoulder pads in a window hurts way more than you'd think.

"Do you feel well enough to perform?" Rachel asked.

"Yeah, I just…" I leaned close to her and whispered, "do you think we could cut down on the choreography stuff, I mean it's really hard even when I'm feeling good."

Rachel thought about that for a few seconds. "I'm not sure how we can redo everything now. It's a song about passion and without—"

"I'm doing a love song with the person I love more than anything," I interrupted, "The passion isn't coming from the dancing."

Rachel smiled and nodded. "Ok. We'll 'wing it'."

I gave her a quick peck on the lips. "Thanks Rach. Let's do this."

It took another minute for everyone to settle into the choir room, and I was starting to feel tense because it had already been more than 15 minutes and I didn't think getting stuck in a window was the kind of excuse that would go over to well with Coach Bieste. Still, Rachel was excited and I wasn't going to let her down. I tried really hard to push football out of my mind and focus on Rachel and the song. This was for her, and I was going to do whatever I could to make it special.

I stood by the door as everyone else took their seats. Rachel quietly plugged her iPod into the dock. I was almost expecting her to roll out the school orchestra for this one, but I was kind of glad she didn't; they would of seen me stuck in the window too.

The music started with a series of chords, and I took a deep breath. This was for Rachel.

_No more talk of darkness  
Forget these wide eyed fears  
I'm hear  
Nothing can harm you  
My words will warm and calm you_

I started walking slowly towards Rachel, and she did the same.  
_  
Let me be your freedom  
Let daylight dry your tears  
I'm here with you,beside you  
To guard you and to guide you  
_  
I grabbed Rachel's hands and brought them up to my chest as she started the next verse.

_Say you love me  
Every waking moment  
Turn my head  
With talk of summertime_

I closed my eyes and just listened for a moment. Everyone knows Rachel has an awesome voice, but when she's singing to me-singing about love to me-there is something special about it. Like a little extra she doesn't let anyone else hear. Except for, you know, the people who are listening when she's singing to me. Maybe it's just my imagination, but I like to think the most beautiful voice in the world is just a little bit more beautiful for me.

_Say you need me with you  
Now and always  
Promise me  
That all you say is true  
That's all I ask of you  
_  
I resisted the urge to kiss Rachel-it wasn't easy. Sometimes I forget how much it turns me on when she opens her mouth; plus I think she was wearing a push-up bra because her boobs looked better than usual. I just wanted to wrap her in my arms and take her away... but we had a song to do. I'd given into my emotions on stage before-something certain members of the glee club still brought up from time to time-and I didn't want anyone thinking I'd ever do it again. Slowly, I stepped away from her, took a deep breath and sang.

_Let me be your shelter  
Let me be your light  
You're safe  
No one will find you  
Your fears are far behind you_

Rachel had followed me across the room, and I turned around and grabbed her hands again. As she started the next verse I sank to my knees and starred into those big brown eyes, smiling just a bit.

_All I want is freedom  
A world with no more night  
And you always beside me  
To hold and to hide me_

I stood up as dramatically as I could and turned toward the audience.

_Than say you'll share with me  
One love one lifetime_

I turned back to Rachel.

_Let me lead you  
From your solitude  
Say you need me  
With you  
Here beside you_

I took a step back and slowly pointed to the ceiling. I really meant the stars. I hope people got that.  
_  
Anywhere you go  
Let me go too  
Rachel...  
That's all I ask of you_

Rachel grabbed my shoulders and pulled me down towards her so we were eye to eye, then started the next verse.  
_  
Say you'll share with me  
One ,love one lifetime  
Say the word  
And I will follow you_

I looked into her eyes and together we sang:

_Share each day with me  
Each night, each morning  
_  
"_Say you love me_," Rachel sang as she wrapped her arms around my back

"You know I do," I said, only half singing and trying to keep tears out of my eyes. She is just so amazing when she sings. I took a deep breath, and together we finished the song:

_Love me...  
That's all I ask of you_

I wrapped my arms around her as the music crescendoed, lifting her off her feet and up so I could kiss her on the lips. I held her tightly, putting my head on her shoulder. Finally the music ended, and I gently put Rachel back on her feet. So much for not looking like Nationals last year.

We got a pretty decent applause from the class, and Mr. Schue walked towards us. "That was great guys," he said.

"Thanks, Mr. Schue," I said.

"I'm glad you liked it," Rachel added. "I've wanted to do a Broadway duet with Finn for a long time." She grabbed my hand. "You we're _fantastic_."

I looked in her eyes again. They were so happy, so excited. She was so beautiful at that moment. "I want-" I blurted out before I caught myself. Saying 'I want you so bad right now' in front of everybody wasn't going to go over well with anyone, especially Rachel.

"What _do you_ want Finn?" Santana asked with a smirk.

"Uh..." What was I supposed to say? My mind was pretty focused on one thing at that point.

"I have a feeling you normally follow those two words whatever grease soaked, artery clogging monstrosity your craving, but in this instance I think it was quite a bit more suggestive."

Rachel's eyes narrowed. "What are you trying to say?"

"Really? You're so dense you can't see that your boyfriend spent that entire song thinking about how he's going to nail you? Cause I can promise you everyone else could."

"She has a point," Quinn said. "Finn _did_ look distracted."

"It seemed fine to me," Rory said.

"Are you kidding me?" Mercedes said, "That boy was so distracted I'm surprised he could stand up."

Santana rolled her eyes. "Trust me; _standing up_ was not a problem for Finn."

"Come on guys," Mr. Schue said. "Finn and Rachel do a beautiful performance and all you can do is try and find ways it's lewd? I'm really disappointed."

"I thought we we're free to express our opinions of each other's work," Santana said.

"Within reason. You can't attack other students and accuse them of being obscene just because something we do in the classroom is a little bit more intimate than what we'd do for completion."

"First of all, you said yourself we need to treat our performances like they are all a competition. And second, I don't need to remind you Finn and Rachel couldn't cool it during Nationals last year, and they weren't even _doing_ each other back then."

"Santana!"

"All I'm saying is that a Hudson-Berry duet is sending our Nationals chances down a sex crazed tunnel of doom unless dumb and dumber get their act together."

"Don't call Rachel dumb," I said.

"I was talking about you and your penis."

"That's enough! You're entitled to your opinion Santana, but until you find a way to express it without be offensive and attacking other students, you need to keep it to yourself."

"I'm just keeping it real. If we lose National's because I'm too afraid to speak up and call this for what it is"—she waved towards me and Rachel—"then how is that any better?"

"It is possible to make a point without being a bitch," Rachel said, getting a few 'ooos' from the class.

"I'm surprised that you would know," Santana, getting even more 'ooos'.

I put my hand on Rachel's shoulder and squeezed, hoping she didn't star railing on Santana. Fortunately Mr. Schue started talking before she had a chance.

"We don't have time to go down these tangents every rehearsal," he said. "We've eaten up more than half of a two hour rehearsal with three songs and a lot of bickering."

"Plus a good ten minutes of dumbass stuck in a window," Santana said.

"Santana, please," Mr. Schue pleaded. "The point is, we've wasted a lot of time. So I have two announcements. First, we're adding another rehearsal, Sunday night, 7pm. With the game over we can finally get everyone in here at the same time." He paused for a second. "And second, I'm appointing Artie our official timekeeper. He'll be my assistant in keeping us on track and making sure we don't go off on tangents."

"Uh, no, I don't think so," Artie said quickly and quietly. "I really don't want to get in the middle of—"

"If Artie isn't comfortable with this, I'd be more than happy to volunteer my services," Rachel interrupted. "As many of you know, I live a highly regimented personal life that requires constant attention to scheduling detail and has made me more than qualified to dictate what all of you should be doing with your time."

"Do you listen to yourself when you talk?" Quinn asked.

"The fact that you have a bowel movement the same time every day doesn't make you my boss." I spun around and saw Puck standing in the doorway.

"I thought you were at practice."

"Bieste wanted to know where her quarterback went," he said.

"Oh, right, I uh…" I looked at Mr. Schue. "I really need to get back to practice."

Mr. Schue nodded in my direction. "Remember, rehearsal Sunday at 7. Tell the rest of the football guys."

I looked at Puck. "We have a rehearsal, Sunday at 7."

"Thanks for that." He rolled his eyes. "Let's go."

"Use the door!" Kurt yelled as we left.

"What's that mean?" Puck asked.

I shrugged. "Nothing important. Coach is upset, isn't she?"

"I think her exact words were 'Find out if he died somewhere, and if he didn't, kill him."

I sighed. "Yeah, things just—didn't go well."

"The song tanked?" he asked.

"Actually the song was awesome."

Puck frowned at me. "Then what things?"

"Uh—well—Santana made this big stink about checking out Rachel while I was singing or whatever."

He smiled a bit. "_She_ was probably checking out Rachel while you were singing."

"You're joking, right?"

"Don't worry; another woman is a non-starter with Rachel." His smile got bigger. "Believe me, I tried."

I stopped for a second and just glared at him. I don't think he'd ever gotten far enough with Rachel for the possibility of a threesome to even come up, but that didn't mean I was cool with him talking that way about my girlfriend. "Asshole."

"Plus for whatever reason that crazy midget loves you like she's never loved anyone—anything, really- else. And apparently you're dumb enough to love her back."

It was my turn to smile. "Apparently I am."

**Reviews are appreciated encouraged! And my sincere thanks to all of you that have already taken the time to comment and subscribe!**


	19. All These Things That I've Done

**A/N: Apologies for the extended delay in this chapter—it took a little longer to write than I expected, but hopefully it was worth the wait. It's a Finn and Kurt chapter, with some discussion of their rocky history with one another. As always, thanks to wood-u-like-2-no for his help, and my sincere appreciation to everyone that takes the time to read, favorite, and review!**

After a few questions about where the hell I'd been, Coach Bieste let me jump back into practice and things went pretty smoothly. I wasn't exactly undistracted—Rachel was still totally on my mind, and I knew we weren't going to have any time together until at least late Saturday night. As soon as practice was over I needed to head home and get ready for this art thing with Kurt, and by the time we got back from that it would be time to get ready for the game. I wondered what Coach Bieste would think if she knew I was camping out to get art gala tickets instead of resting for the big game; I figured I was best not knowing.

Finally, after two more grueling hours, practice was over. I was covered in sweat, mud, and a little blood. But I was satisfied we were ready, and I made sure everyone knew it. I was proud, I was happy, and I wanted the team to know it. I think if the QB stays positive and people see that, it helps keep everyone positive.

After a shower I headed home, had some cold pizza, and crashed on the couch. I ached like crazy, and figured that a few minutes of rest wouldn't hurt. I don't know how long I was out when Kurt finally realized I was home.

"Why are you laying there?" Kurt asked angrily.

"Relaxing," I said, not bothering to open my eyes.

He made a noise that sounded like it should have had a lot of spit along with it, but either it didn't or he looked away when he made it. "We should have left already."

"Relax. Give me, like, another 5 minutes and I'll start packing." That's when he grabbed my shoulder and tried to roll me off the couch. I might have been tired, but I wasn't that out of it. As soon as he touched me, I grabbed his arm and sat up, forcing him down onto the couch next to me. He was surprised, but tried to hide it.

"You said you'd have everything ready to go yesterday," Kurt whined. I remembered it differently but I just nodded.

"Look, I'm not really into this whole arts tickets thing to begin with, but I said I would go and I'm gonna go, but can you please like, work with me a little bit? It's been a long day."

He huffed. "Fine. Five minutes. But then pack fast."

He wandered out. I closed my eyes but after the sofa wrestling I wasn't able to really relax, so I just went up to my room and threw some clothes in a bag. I found one of the little toothpaste things that we steal from hotels sometimes but I couldn't find a toothbrush so I figured I'd just need to improvise. It took a few minutes to find the tent in the basement, and Kurt had the SUV running by the time I got outside. I threw my crap in the back and got in.

"I'm glad you're coming," Kurt said as he punched some stuff into the little Garmin GPS on the dash.

"I said I would."

"Yeah, but still. Thanks." He put the car into reverse and we were on our way.

"It's cool." I smiled. "After all, who knows what kind of trouble you'd get into camping."

"Because I'm not a rough and tough outdoorsman, as opposed to you, the guy that gets stuck in windows?"

"The window thing? Really? You're going to keep bringing that up?"

Kurt laughed. "You got stuck in a window. Deal with it."

I looked down. "It just makes me feel like an idiot."

Kurt shook his head. "Sorry, but it's hard to frame that in a way that doesn't hurt your intelligence."

I looked over at him. "Then leave it unframed."

"Does it really bother you that much?"

I sighed. "No, not really. It's just that the last couple days I…." Even as I started talking I realized I didn't want to get into this stuff. "Never mind, I'm just mad tired." I closed my eyes and leaned back.

"You're going to sleep the whole way to Toledo?"

"Uh, yeah…" I said, not opening my eyes.

"So I'm just supposed to drive in silence for the next hour and a half so you can take a nap?"

"It's cool if you want to put on the radio or something."

"Oh, I…" He trailed off, sounding kind of hurt. I guess he'd thought we were about have an hour and a half of private heart to heart brother stuff. If I'm going to get touchy feely with another guy Kurt's definitely on the short list, but it's not something I really like to do. But if I said that we'd end up getting into the whole 'you need to express yourself better' and 'you keep things bottled up' stuff. So I just stuck with the obvious excuse.

"Sorry man, I'm just really tired."

Kurt grumbled buy didn't actually say anything. After a few minutes he plugged in his iPod and started playing some Lady Gaga, but it wasn't insanely loud so it didn't bother me. I'm not a huge Gaga fan but some of her stuff is pretty cool I guess. Probably not the best stuff when you're trying to get to sleep, but I was tired enough it didn't really matter. At least at first. I should of known Kurt wasn't going to give up that easy.

I recognized the music but couldn't remember what the song was called. It started with the singer saying "after love" about a million times, and that was when Kurt joined in. Loudly.

_No matter hard how I try  
You keep pushing me aside  
And I can't break through  
There's no talkin' to you _

I snapped my head around and looked at Kurt. "You've got to be kidding…." I said loudly over the music.

"Now I can't sing in my own car?

"Not when I'm trying to sleep!"

Kurt grinned. "I guess we have a disagreement then." He then seamlessly went into the chorus.

_Do you believe in life after love?  
I can feel something inside me say,  
I really don't think you're strong enough, no  
Do you believe-_

"Come on man, please…."

_-after love?  
I can feel something inside me say, _

"Fine, you win!"

He turned down the music. "You can't take a little Cher?"

"I can't sleep with you singing it," I answered. "And you know that."

Kurt did something funny with his eyebrow. "You think I'm singing this out of some perverse need to agitate you?"

"No, I think it's because you want to piss me off."

Kurt shook his head. "That's what I said." Kurt took a deep breath. "It doesn't matter. The point is I'm not trying to upset you; on the contrary I want to be sure you're OK."

This was getting old. It's like, how many times can someone ask you the same question? "I told you, I'm—"

"Cut the crap Finn. Blaine saw you slam your head into a locker after talking with Carlos. And even if he hadn't, I can tell when stuff is getting to you. You've been on edge all week, and I'll admit part of it is my fault, but I'm here to help now."

"I had a headache; I was just trying to make it go away."

"By creating another one?"

"Pretty much. You know how if you have a headache in one part of your head, and you whack another part of your head, you end up with two smaller headaches?"

"No, but I'd love to read the medical journal that was published in," Kurt said. "Be serious."

"It actually does work. I was dubious too when Puck told me 'cause I thought he was just trying to get me to hit myself, but then—"

"True or not it had nothing to do with what happened. Stop stalling."

"Fine." I looked at him. "Carlos is a fucking bully, and it's my fault."

"How is it 'your fault'?" he said, sounding skeptical.

"He's a bully 'cause of how I treated him." I clenched my teeth. This was even more uncomfortable than I thought it would be; Kurt knew all too well what I was talking about. "Like I was with… you understand," I added quietly.

"Like you treated me," Kurt said slowly. We sat in silence for several seconds, and I started wondering what he was thinking. Our pre-glee relationship was something that didn't come up much; I guess it isn't really a lot of good memories for Kurt, and I'm just ashamed of some of the stuff I did to him. We'd ignored the past, pushed it aside because it was painful for both of us. But it seems like anytime you do that, the past always finds some way back out into the open.

"I'm not going to lie Finn," Kurt finally continued, "I haven't forgotten. I've tried, but I can't. You were cruel, you were mean, you…" He took a deep breath. "I don't hold it against you. Really. I want you to understand that. This isn't something that I'm going to pull out looking for sympathy one day or to mess with you."

"You'd totally have a right to," I said. "What we did… what _I _did, was—"

"Wrong." Kurt interrupted.

I had my head down, trying to keep Kurt from seeing how much this was bothering me. I wasn't in tears or anything, but I was a lot closer to them then I wanted to be in front of my brother. Of course, when I looked over at him I saw a few drops already running down his cheeks. "It was worse than wrong. Beyond wrong."

"But I forgive you for it," he said. I wonder if he realized how much that meant. "You're a different, better person now. You've learned from those mistakes. Just like I've learned from mine." He paused for a second. "Part of what made it so painful back then was that I liked _you_. It was stupid, it was wrong, but… it made it feel like I wasn't just getting bullied, or teased… it made it feel like I kept getting rejected."

"Kurt, you know I never meant to hurt you like that."

"You didn't even know," he said slowly. "And it wouldn't have mattered if you did. Even if you used it to torment me. It would have been my fault. Because I was wrong. And I'm sorry."

"You don't need to apologize for anything," I said. "There's, like, a giant freaking difference between hitting on someone and torturing them."

He glanced at me for as second. "Maybe, maybe not. When you joined glee, and your life got all messed up, I saw an opportunity and I pushed hard. And I almost destroyed our friendship before it began." He took another deep breath. "The point is we've both made mistakes. We've both treated people poorly, and we've both been on the receiving end of some pretty nasty stuff. And that is how I know you are wrong about Carlos."

I blinked. I'd forgotten that we were talking about Carlos. "I don't really get where you're going…"

"If what people did to you in high school determined who you were, I'd be the cruelest bully you've ever seen. And you'd be some crazy homophobic extremist. You're experiences are only a part of who you are; most of it is what you do with those experiences, who you _choose_ to be. When you decide to be a bully, you're really deciding that you value yourself less than your desire to get back at some idiot who made your life miserable."

"You really believe that?"

"After what we've done to each other, we're sitting in a car together discussing things we'd share with only three or four other people on this planet. Can you explain that one to me if all that matters is the past?"

I shrugged. "You have a point." He did. We really should be mortal enemies, not best friends. But after all the spitballs, wedgies, swirlies, dumpster dives, prank calls, slushies, twankings, water (and some other types of liquidy stuff) balloons, pantsings, laxatives, and porta pot rolls, there he was trying to make _me_ feel better. I was opening up to a guy that had every reason to take my innermost secrets and post them all over the internet. But I trusted him in a way I didn't trust many people. Yeah, he might screw with me from time to time, but when the shit hit the fan we both knew we could count on each other, and that's something. I looked over at him. "Thanks Kurt."

Kurt wiped his cheek and smiled. "No problem."

"And—it's not as a big of deal as you make it out to be, but the whole hitting on me thing… I forgive you to." Really, I guess I forgave him a long time before that, but it wasn't one of those things I ever bothered to bring up, or really think about at all.

"Thanks Finn. When we get there the funnel cake is on me."

"They have funnel cake? I thought we just lined up and waited for tickets. Like crazy people outside of a Wal-Mart selling cheap printers."

"That's how it started," he said, "but over the years it's kind of grown. They have food, music, a few retailers and exhibits."

"But I thought we had to stay in line?"

"We check in, and we need to be back at the tent at designated check-in times, but other than that we can look around."

"Beats sitting there doing nothing," I said. Still, I didn't want to be up all night. It was less than 24 hours to the big game and I had to get some sleep.

"You'll have fun, don't worry," Kurt said. I couldn't tell if he was being serious or not. I almost asked if this was a gay festival, but I knew that would piss him off. Plus, it really shouldn't matter if it's gay or straight or feminist or Korean or whatever. I'm past that whole thing, I know you just got to go with the flow and respect others. At least until the dude who's hitting on me won't take no for an answer.

"So, I guess… what do I do now? I mean, even if it isn't my fault Carlos is the way he is, I still feel bad about what I did. And I kinda want to get him to shut up."

"I know, but I don't think that many people take him seriously. He's no Bob Woodward," Kurt said.

"Who?"

"Bob Woodward. Famous reporter and author. Woodward and Berstein… brought down Nixon."

"Who?"

"Richard Nixon. Come on Finn, I've helped you on enough of your homework to know you've been over this."

"He was like…" I hate it when Kurt pulls out these obscure facts and acts like I'm stupid just because I don't know them. "He was in congress or something, right?"

"Congress, Senate, and President."

"Yeah… President. That's it. I knew it sounded familiar." I looked over at him. "So you think that line would work?"

"Line?"

"The 'you're not Bob Woodward' thing. You know, if Carlos gets up in my grille." I wasn't going to punch him or yell at him, but I'm not above an insult or two. Especially smart-sounding ones Kurt comes up with.

Kurt shrugged. "He'd probably just say 'You're no… what's some big shot quarterback?"

"Elway, Unitas, Brady, Marino—"

"I got it," Kurt said, rolling his eyes. "The point is he'll turn it around on you and then you just look kinf of dumb." Kurt glanced out the window then back straight ahead. "One day you'll need to tell me how you can remember every quarterback ever to play the game but can't spell the word 'oatmeal'."

"I swear I saw a cereal box once where it had two e's in it." Plus that was freshman year and it was really uncool bringing it up out of nowhere.

"So by that logic I assume fruit has two o's in it."

I shook my head. "Really? So you're back to calling me stupid?"

"You're not stupid. You're just exceptionally gifted at hiding your intelligence."

I thought about that for a second. "Is that, like a statement or an insult?"

"It's a statement. Really." Kurt sighed. "I just wish you made a better impression on people sometimes."

"A better impression?" I asked. "Seriously?"

Kurt glanced at me and shrugged again. "I'm not trying to be mean. I just wish people could see who you are right up front. You exude dumb jock. I need to explain that you are a thoughtful, talented, caring person."

"You say that like you're embarrassed to be around me," I said, probably sounding a bit sadder then I wanted to.

"I don't mean it like that." He took a deep breath. "I just see some people get put off by the first impression you give them, and I feel like I owe it to you to make sure they know you're not just some dull-witted athlete." He sighed. "I hope that makes sense."

"Yeah, totally. Trust me, I get that more than you know." I could totally relate to that. It's not like Kurt's always making great first impressions, especially since in Western Ohio people aren't normally that open to the whole gay thing. So I end up trying to protect his rep and all, like explaining how the stuff he's wearing isn't actually women's clothing. I don't know if it really works, but I try.

Kurt apparently realized that. "I guess you would."

"What's important is the people who matter know who we are," I said.

"And that's what you need to remember next time Carlos spits out some fecal-covered tabloid piece about you."

"Yeah, I know…" I said. Truth is, I always knew. It's just life isn't that simple. At one time I'd do almost anything to be popular; that was over, but I still couldn't help but caring what people thought. I took a deep breath and looked a Kurt. "Thanks," I added, yawning as I said it.

"Always." He paused for a second. "You still want to sleep?" Kurt asked. I guess now that he had his heart to heart he was willing to cut me a break.

"Yeah. Nothing against chatting, man, I just could seriously use some rest."

Kurt nodded. "Alright. No Cher this time. I'll wake you up when we get close."

I leaned back and closed my eyes again. It took a few minutes, but Kurt stuck to his word and I managed to get to sleep. Of course by that time we were half way to Toledo, and it isn't like the drive is that long to begin with, so Kurt was shaking my shoulder and saying something to me way before I was ready to get up.

"I—what?" I asked, having no idea what he'd just said.

"Read this," he said, handing me a piece of paper. "I need you to help me find where we are supposed to park."

"OK… um, we can't just park at the museum? I mean, it's a museum, and those normally have parking, right?" I honestly don't go too often.

"It's a satellite lot." He shot me a nasty look. "Since we're so late I doubt there is any parking in the main lot. A lot of people come for the other stuff these days. Most aren't willing to camp the entire night."

"OK," I said, reading through the directions. "We're coming from the south, right?"

Kurt paused for a second, like he was thinking of something mean to say. Either nothing came to mind or he decided to be nice. "Yeah, south."

"OK, so it says take exit 201B to Downtown." I read through the next few things and we didn't have any problems, even though one of the intersections was really screwed up. "Next," I told Kurt, "We make a left on Jefferson. Make sure you're in the right lane."

"I thought you said left?"

"Yeah."

"Then you said right lane? How do you make a left form the right lane?" Kurt said, sounding annoyed.

"It's easier than making it from the wrong lane," I shot back.

"So I need to be in the left lane?" Kurt asked, now sounding more pissed than annoyed.

"Right."

It was pretty much a straight shot from there; the parking lot was about a mile up the road on the right. The lot was almost empty, so I guessed we weren't as late as Kurt kept saying. I grabbed my bag and the tent and Kurt grabbed his bag, which was about the size of the tent. I knew better than to actually ask what he'd packed; he'd either think I was making fun of him, or even worse, actually tell me.

Check-in for the tickets thing was at this big glass building that wasn't too far from the lot. I saw seven or eight tents already set up, plus a few other piles of stuff that looked like people were getting ready to set up camp. Kurt went inside and signed in while I waited with the stuff.

He was smiling when he came back out. "We're number 22," he said.

"Cool. That sounds like a good thing."

"It is. 50 tickets. 22 tents. Two tickets per tent maximum—we've got tickets."

"Sweet." I was happy that Kurt was going to get his tickets, but I was even more happy that he wasn't going to be yelling about how I made him late and he missed out on tickets for the rest of my life.

He nodded over towards a tree. "Spot 22 is over there. We need to be back here at 11pm for check in, and every two hours after that," Kurt explained. "The rest of the festival is across the street at the main museum building."

I smiled. "So that's where the funnel cake is."

Kurt frowned. "I know what I said, but before you run off and gorge yourself I was hoping we could set up some semblance of a camp."

I shrugged and followed him over to our assigned spot. "Sucks it's so far from the building."

He shook his head. "Why should you care?"

"I brought a laptop to play some DVDs but it's got like no battery left. I even brought an extension cord but there's no way it will reach… unless…" I pointed towards a spot closer to the building. "Can we use that spot?"

"The whole point is to set up _in a line,_" Kurt said like he was talking to a little kid. "The spots are numbered for a reason."

I put my hands up. "Alright. That's cool, I'm just saying we could ask, but whatever…"

Setting up the tent was pretty easy. It wasn't raining anymore but the ground was pretty soft which made it easy to put the stakes in. Of course wet ground in the middle of a city park doesn't always smell the greatest. You can sort of tell people walk their dogs there. I dropped my bag inside the tent and was ready to go, but Kurt started sorting through his stuff.

"Ready?"

"I'm not leaving all of this in here unattended," Kurt said. "This is actually one place where someone would recognize and appreciate a Claude Monsonat vest."

I rolled my eyes. I was going to leave my laptop in the tent, and here he was worried about some dumb shirt. But there wasn't any point in pointing that out. "Just hurry up. I haven't eaten anything since before we left."

Kurt looked annoyed. "That was two hours ago." It only took him a few seconds to throw a couple of things into a small bag he could carry with him without looking too ridiculous. I followed him across the street where they had a little stage set up on the steps of the museum, and some guy was auctioning off art that looked like stuff we made in middle school.

Kurt wanted to watch the auction, I wanted a funnel cake, so he handed me five bucks like he promised, and we split up. The cakes were made to order so by the time I got back the auction was over and a band was setting up. Kurt and I sat a few rows back from the stage and waited while I finished my funnel cake.

I heard some static over the sound system and looked up to see a tall, skinny dude had picked up the mic. "Excuse me folks, sorry to bother you. I'm Ryan Reynolds with _Extreme Motion_, and we're looking forward to playing for you in just a minute here, but we're trying to set up another amplifier and ran out of extension cords." He looked out over the audience. "I know it is a long shot, but if someone happens to have one we'd really appreciate the help."

I shoved rest of the funnel cake in my mouth and walked up to the stage, Kurt hanging a couple of feet behind me. "Hey, uh, I have one."

"Really?" Ryan jumped off the stage so quickly I took a step back. "Awesome."

"It's back at the tent over by the building with a lot of glass."

"The Glass Pavilion?" Ryan asked.

"I guess."

"Yes, the Glass Pavilion," Kurt said in a way that made it sound like I should of known that's what it's called.

Ryan looked at me and squinted. Slowly he got this big smile—not like a creepy one, but it came out of nowhere. "I know who you are."

I hate it when people remember me and I don't remember them. "Sorry man, I don't remem—"

"No need to apologize," he said, suddenly grinning. "You wouldn't know me. But you…. you're Finn Hudson aren't you?"

I know I must of looked surprised. I mean, once in a while someone I don't know recognizes me as the quarterback of the high school team, but that's only around Lima, and this was Toledo so it was kind of strange. "Um…. Yeah?"

He pointed at me. "Championship football player, championship glee club captain."

"Well, sort of, we didn't actually—"

"You're number twelve in the nation," he said. "I'm sorry; it probably sounds like I've been stalking you." Just a little…

I glanced at Kurt and back to Ryan. "It's cool, just kind of weird. Not many people know about the glee stuff really, unless, like they are in glee."

"Actually I am," he said, "Marvin Wallis High School, the Good Rhythm." He shrugged. "Not surprised you haven't heard of us, we haven't gotten too far in competition." He flashed another really big smile. "But here's an idea—would you want to perform with us? I'm really sorry to come out of left field like this, but it would be awesome… beyond awesome. I really… it would really mean a lot to me."

"Mean a lot?" I was a little confused. It's not like I'm somebody famous or anything.

"It would. Really." He glanced back at the rest of the band setting up. "I got to help these guys set up, but I'd love to tell you the story. You see, it's not so much that I know who you are because I'm in glee. I'm in glee because of you." He reached into his pocket and pulled out a wad of folded papers. "I know it's a lot to ask…"

"Would it be cool with the rest of your band?"

"Are you kidding? They'll be down like Charlie Sheen's trousers."

I realized it was a performance, it would be fun, and for whatever reason it would make this guy very happy. So why not? "Alright man, I'm in."

"Sweetness, dude." The paper had song lyrics on it. "This is our third song for tonight. I assume you know this one."

I looked at the lyrics. "Yeah, I know it."

"Alright, well I'm thinking we start off how we had planned, and you pick up the main line right here," he pointed at the paper, "Maybe even from out in the crowd. We don't have any wireless mics here, but we have one with a 50 foot cord on it."

It was my turn to smile. "You hook me up with that, we'll make it work."

"Awesome man!" He turned back to the stage. "If you can grab the chord, run back here, I'll introduce you to the guys and then we rock."

"I can live with that," I said. I headed off towards the tent with Kurt behind me.

Kurt snorted. "Honor? Really?"

I shrugged. "Why not?"

"An honor is Michael Crawford or Anthony Rapp." He grinned. "You're a pleasure—at best."


End file.
